


Sugar

by Weberina



Series: Sugar [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Angst, Ballet Dancer Katsuki Yuuri, Businessman Victor Nikiforov, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, M/M, Relationship(s), Romance, Slow Burn, Sugar Daddy AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2018-11-02 22:02:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 112,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10953597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weberina/pseuds/Weberina
Summary: Tears pooled in Yuuri’s eyes as he rested his forehead on his tightly clasped hands. It was the dead of night, and he was bone tired from rehearsals and performances, but still he couldn’t sleep. His body began to shake and his fingers tightened their grip as he tried to control the sobs that came in quiet gasps. He bit his lower lip to stem the flow of tears, silently praying that no one else could hear him in that tiny apartment.Yuuri is desperate to finish his final year in Juilliard, and is offered an unconventional solution to all his problems.





	1. Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy this fic!   
> The thought of Victor being a Sugar Daddy has been kicking around in my head for absolutely ages, and I've finally written down my version of this AU. But what was supposed to be a short light-hearted fic has turned quite long....  
> It's still a work in progress but I'm very emotionally invested in this already so rest assured it will be updated frequently. Chapter 2 won't be long!!

Tears pooled in Yuuri’s eyes as he rested his forehead on his tightly clasped hands. It was the dead of night, and he was bone tired from rehearsals and performances, but still he couldn’t sleep. His body began to shake and his fingers tightened their grip as he tried to control the sobs that came in quiet gasps. He bit his lower lip to stem the flow of tears, silently praying that no one else could hear him in that tiny apartment. At last, the tight clenching in his chest relaxed and he could take in deep, shaky breaths.

How did it come to this? he thought, with his forehead still against his clasped hands and his elbows digging into his knees. He gave a helpless laugh, he knew exactly how it had come to this. He had taken every single step as his world began crumbling around him.

He'd had to move out of student residences in his junior year, and hadn’t expected his rent to eat so quickly into his scholarships and savings. Of course it did, he thought with a defeated smirk, it was New York. And he needed to be near the school. His insane schedule wouldn’t have accommodated any length of commute, really.

He struggled until his senior year. Then, he had missed three months’ worth of rent, and his landlady had to boot him out. Nonetheless, he was very grateful that she had let him stay until thanksgiving break, when he actually had time to pack everything and cobble some kind of plan together. She hadn’t even mentioned anything about paying back the rent he owed, and she was clearly in distress the whole time his boxes were moved to Phichit’s flat. Yuuri couldn’t blame her for this. And she certainly wasn’t to know when he handed her the key in the cold on the curb that it had been his birthday. That tears had flowed freely down his cheek as he made his way to Phichit’s flat. That his family had rang him that evening to celebrate his birthday with him, and he couldn’t bear to tell them what had happened. His mother knew something was wrong, of course, but she hadn’t pressed him for details. That had been two weeks ago.

After that, he was able to cast everything aside with the excuse that the first major dance performance of the year was imminent. It was his fourth time in the Juilliard New Dances. Fourth and final, he thought, feeling a little nostalgic. He had grown accustomed to starting the year with wild and exciting guest choreographers from all over the world.

Now that the final performance of the New Dances was over, he no longer had an excuse to continue crashing on Phichit’s comfy, red couch. He had to come up with a plan. He had to find somewhere to stay, and he needed money for food. But he refused to use his credit card, since he already had a small student loan on his back. He couldn’t go back to the financial office to fill out yet another hardship form. He couldn’t ask his parents for more money, the inn was struggling as it was. He was out of options. As his mind had done so many times before, he began wondering if he shouldn’t have come here, if he should have stayed home in Hasetsu.

At this, he shook his head almost violently, physically willing himself not to go down that path. It had been impossible for him to turn down an offer from the Juilliard Dance Division, and he was now in his senior year. There had be a way out of this.

He heard a door open, and one of Phichit’s flatmates came padding sleepily out of his room. Seung Gil, another dancer in the year below him. He gave a slight flinch when he saw Yuuri, and stared icily at him, “Even after two weeks, I still forget you’re here. Couldn’t sleep?”

Yuuri shrugged slightly, but Seung Gil had already turned toward the kitchen, possibly for a drink of water. Yuuri could never figure out Seung Gil’s cold attitude towards him and even towards Phichit, who was a ray of sunshine that no one could possibly dislike. Yuuri remembered being surprised at the warmth among the 24 dancers in his year. He vaguely expected Juilliard to be a four-year-long Hunger Games. Instead, they were a comfortable, close-knit group, even someone as shy as Yuuri had been brought into the fold. The very nature of the courses meant that everyone had to get along and work together, even with dancers in the year below, like Phichit.

Everyone, except Seung Gil, who seemed to be more isolated than Yuuri.

When Seung Gil came out of the kitchen, he fixed a stern glare at Yuuri and seemed to be contemplating whether to let him in on a secret. Finally, he pursed his lips slightly, and said, “You are not going to be able to get out of this one, are you?”

Yuuri stared blankly at him, wondering where in the world this was supposed to lead.

“Well,” he answered with a small sigh, “I don’t think I’m allowed to wait at tables, not if I want a year’s rent, so…” his mind did a quick calculation to double check. Maximum of 20 hours a week at minimum wage. Yeap, definitely not. He couldn’t even keep up with the administrative work he occasionally found the time to do on campus.

Seung Gil’s glare became a touch frostier, and looked like he was about to make a nasty remark. But, surprisingly, he bit it back and folded his arms across his chest. He gave Yuuri a long hard look and said, “Perhaps you should be a little bit more… open minded about the solution to your problems. Waiting at tables is not the only way to earn money in restaurants.” He hesitated. “I suggest that maybe you _should_ want some sugar in your life.”

Yuuri looked at him in pure confusion. While he certainly couldn’t imagine Seung Gil waiting at tables, what other things…? _Sugar_ …? But before he could finish his train of thought, Seung Gil had walked down the corridor towards his room.

Then, his mind flashed back to one of the few interactions he had with Seung Gil. Yuuri and Phichit had found an article online about how sugar daddy/baby relationships had entered the mainstream and now had their own dating platforms. Out of curiosity, they had downloaded one of the apps, with Yuuri perched on the kitchen counter and giggling the entire time as Phichit read the slogan in a mock la-di-dah accent, “Sugar your life! Dig in the sugar bowl, sweetie is waiting for you!”

Yuuri had choked out, “Oh my goodness, why would anyone want to… what was it… sugar their lives…”

Amidst their hysterical laughter, Seung Gil had stepped into the kitchen with a stormy expression on his face, giving them a glare before grabbing a drink from the fridge and storming out. He began giving them an even colder shoulder since then.

Yuuri sank back into the couch as realization dawned on him. _This_ was why Seung Gil had been so guarded about his private life. Why he often came back so late. Why he never seemed to have time to hang out with the others in the evening. Why he _always_ seemed to have new things, seemingly expensive things, and was never worried about money, even though he was on financial aid like Yuuri.

His mind went blank at the possibility. He shouldn’t. He couldn’t…

He unlocked his phone and tapped the app icon.

His fingers felt icy cold as he filled in his profile, deciding to only use his first name and wincing internally when he was asked to confirm that he was a Sugar Baby. He uploaded the best photo he could find of himself, a professional-looking headshot for students in the Dance Division. He tried to find honest words to describe himself that didn’t reveal too much, finally settling on “I love to dance” for his short caption. To maximize his chances, he decided to verify himself, which involved taking a picture while holding up a handwritten note containing the name of the app. His fingers felt numb as he hastily wrote the note. He even managed to smile shakily into the camera. Then, he placed his first purchase on his credit card that he couldn’t repay that month – a one-month premium membership, which would grant him greater access and exposure on the app.

All the while, his mind had been screaming at the insanity of this idea. But when he finally closed the app, the screaming stopped. Perhaps his mind believed he had fallen out of reality.

His hands were still cold and shaking when he placed his phone on the glass-top coffee table, and tried to sleep.

Right before he drifted off, a small part of his brain re-surfaced to haunt his dreams.

What have you done…

 

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Over the next week, he surreptitiously browsed through the potential candidates and avoided eye contact with Seung Gil as much as he could. He tensed at the thought of lying to Phichit. And even more at the thought of receiving no responses, all the while dreading the possibility of being rejected by strangers. He typed and re-typed messages, not sure whether to be coy, sweet or seductive. He knew that because of the supposed 4-to-1 baby-to-daddy ratio, it was unlikely anyone would contact him first. He needed to make the first move. It was a nerve-racking thought. He never made the first move. In fact, he tended to be blissfully oblivious when he was on dates and usually only found out later from Phichit that he had been dating.

  
He swiped through the profiles again, each containing a picture, a short caption, their job and their salary. Swipe left for dislike and right for like. So far, he hadn’t swiped right.

Then, one of the profiles caught his eye.

Mochaccino.

Unlike the rest, he was looking out of a window. His gaze falling on the setting sun, and his chin resting lightly on his hand. The room was half in shadows, and half bathed in dark golden light.

Yuuri couldn’t tell the colour of his eyes or his hair. His sharp features nearly blending into the background. And his expression was blank. Almost listless. There was something about him…

Yuuri looked up from his phone to stare into space, only to realize he was staring at the calendar. It would be three weeks tomorrow since he started crashing on Phichit’s couch. Technically, homeless.

Hastily, he typed a quick message on his phone, the first thing that came to his mind.

**Hi, I love your profile picture. Would you like to have coffee with me sometime?** 17:56

And sent it before his mind started racing again.

  
Shortly after that, he heard Phichit’s usual racket in the kitchen, signalling the start of dinner preparations. Stuffing his phone into his pocket, he treaded eagerly toward the smell of cooking.

 

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While putting away the dishes, Yuuri realized that he had forgotten to check his phone throughout dinner. Damn silent mode, he thought, what if Mochaccino had replied. And his heart stilled as he unlocked his phone. There was a notification. He opened the app, and saw that the message was sent more than an hour and a half ago.

**Thank you for your message, Yuuri. I know that this is short notice but would you like to attend a cocktail party with me this evening? I had a cancellation and I hate being alone at these things. The party starts at 8pm and should be over by midnight.** 18:10

Yuuri froze. It was nearly 8pm. Mochaccino had replied almost immediately after he sent his message. He must be quite desperate for a date, thought Yuuri. What should he do now? This was so embarrassing. His first attempt at propositioning someone and it had backfired like a rusty car. He could feel his chest tighten as he struggled over his next move. Alright, apologise. And then offer a solution, no matter how pathetic.

**I am so sorry about this, as I did not expect a reply so soon. I hope that you found a date for your party, but if you have not, I am still available.**

He finished typing and felt like a lame duck. Of course, he’s found someone! But it did show that Yuuri was willing.

Send.

Yuuri rubbed the back of his neck to distract himself from the absolute idiocy that was seeping from the pores of his skin. Why did he not check his phone?  
But as he calmed down, he realized that this was probably for the best. Come to think of it, because Yuuri had started panicking about missing the message, he hadn’t considered that he wouldn't know how to behave at a (presumably) high-end cocktail party. What do people talk about? Or was he supposed to just stand there and be…charming? He didn't even have suitable clothes for it. Only something acceptable for a semi-formal coffee/lunch date. Then he realized how stupid his first message must have sounded. A coffee? These people probably had their own baristas at home. Or at least a fancy coffee machine. He vaguely thought about asking Phichit for advice, feeling completely out of his depth.

But before he could join the others in the living room, his phone went off again and he could feel heat spreading quickly through his body. What in the world—

**Thank goodness! Yes, I would absolutely love it if you could accompany me. Could you send me details of where to pick you up? Let me know your size too if you need the proper attire.** 19:42

  
Yuri lost all sensibility.

“Phichit!!!!”, he yelled as he tore into the living room.

 

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“OK, Yuuri. Calm down, “said Phichit, as he ran a soothing hand up and down Yuuri’s back. They were sitting on the couch after Yuuri blurted out the situation in hurried bits and pieces.

“What should I do?” wailed Yuuri, on the verge of tears, “Oh my god, what have I done? What have I done?”

“OK, Yuuri. Calm down, “said Phichit again, “He sounds like a nice person, and the vetting process for the platform is solid. So, I don’t think you’ll be in any danger. And I think the cocktail party sounds quite fun.”

“But, Phichit! I’ve never done anything like this. I don’t even go to the parties on campus!”

“We have no time for you to explain why you got into all this in the first place. So, short version. Do you want to go to this thing, or not?”

Yuuri hesitated for a moment, allowing Phichit’s cool rationality cut through his panic. He needed this. Knowing that he needed this, he had minimized the pain by only contacting the one person he thought he could like. And Mochaccino sounded like a decent person so far.

“Yes”, he replied with certainty and quickly typed a response.

**That sounds wonderful. Please pick me up outside the Apollo Theater on West 125 St. Size S clothes usually fit me.** 19:53

There. At least, he didn’t give away his real address but wouldn’t have too far to walk.

“You _did not_ just say size S did you?” Phichit frowned as he read the message over Yuuri’s shoulders

“Huh-?”

“Oh, Yuuri…” Phichit sighed in resignation, “Inches! Give him a few measurements in inches. His poor minions must be scrabbling all over the internet now trying to figure out what length size S trousers are.”

Yuuri looked at him blankly. That didn't occur to him at all. At least now Mochaccino will know how inexperienced he was and Yuuri wouldn’t have to tell him outright. While he was musing over this, his phone went off again.

**Excellent! The car will be there in fifteen minutes to take you to my regular tailor. They’ll have picked out something suitable by now, so getting ready won’t take too long. I’ll see you at the reception area.** 19:57

Yuuri leapt from the couch and dashed into the shower.

 

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Yuuri couldn’t tell if the haughty derision of the head tailor was because he looked like something the cat dragged in, or because they had to look up the measurements for size S. His team was lightning quick, in any case, and Yuuri was out of the boutique in a matter of minutes, dressed in a smart dark blue suit with a light blue tie that he was allowed to pick out. He was taken by surprise when the assistant stuffed a pocket square into his front pocket, and before he could ask what it was for, she hurried him back to the limo, where the driver was waiting to slam the door shut and speed off.

Phichit had insisted on staying on the phone the entire time, in case Yuuri was kidnapped. But Yuuri suspected he wanted a first-hand account of the night, if not through video then through audio. He made a mental note to end the call when he reached the party.

Alone in the sleek limo, his thoughts began to race again. How was he supposed to act? He was quite confident in his messages, sounding a thousand times more experienced and sought-after than he actually was. What did his…Yuuri paled at the name. He couldn’t quite say it just yet. Not even in the safety of his internal monologue. What did his…patron…expect of him?

The limo pulled up in front of a courtly building with two towering pillars and the words FREVD carved in stone. Before Yuuri could react, the driver had opened his door and stood waiting. Yuuri smiled nervously at him and blurted a quick “Thank you” before stumbling up the stone steps. When he reached the entrance, the maître d’ nodded at him and said, “May I have your invitation, sir?”

Yuuri froze. Invitation?

“I’m…I’m here with someone.”

“May I know their name, sir?” Ah, Yuuri thought, this was unprecedented.

While he was toying with the idea of saying Mochaccino and showing the maître d’ the picture on the app, he heard hurried footsteps coming from within.

A tall, alluring figure with silvery blond hair and vivid blue-green eyes walked briskly towards them. “Sebastian,” he called out in a rich and velvety voice, “I forgot to let you know about the slight change. This is my plus one for the night. Miss Babicheva couldn’t make it,” he turned his startling eyes toward Yuuri, “My turn to apologise, Yuuri. I forgot the reception area was barred by the trusty Sebastian.”

Yuuri let out an audible sigh of relief, and caught the amusement in the maître d’s eyes. “Very good, Mr Nikiforov. Have a pleasant evening, Yuuri san.”

Yuuri smiled warmly at Sebastian for the slip of japanese, before following Mochaccino, or rather Mr Nikiforov, into the reception area.

There were small groups of people milling around with drinks in hand. The floor was covered in thick carpet of the deepest red, and a grand staircase opened up before him leading to the second floor. On the right was an imposing set of double doors, carved with subtle fleur-de-lises and stained with burnt sienna. The bulk of the party seemed to be behind the doors, where the hum of conversation floated through. Yuuri followed slightly behind Mr Nikiforov, noting the sleek shine of his black suit jacket and self-assured poise of his strong shoulders. They found a quiet corner with a standing table, next to a row of stately windows looking out into the city lights. Mr Nikiforov casually draped an elbow on the table and and gave Yuuri a well-rehearsed smile.

“Sorry about the mix up. Things were a little more hectic than I anticipated. I'm glad the suit fits you well,” he said, while eyeing Yuuri from top to toe, pausing only to narrow his eyes slightly at the tie.

Yuuri looked at his patron in bemused silence, not entirely sure how to respond and squirming slightly at the attention.

“Thank you, Mr Nikiforov” was all he could manage, trying not to avoid eye contact.

“Oh yes,” Mr Nikiforov laughed, “I seem to be doing everything wrong tonight. Call me Victor. I'm sorry I didn't give you my name earlier.” He signalled a waiter, who came over with a selection of cocktails. “Here Yuuri. Long Island iced tea, margarita or mojito. Just the bare bones I'm afraid. We'll need to venture into the main hall for the more exotic ones.”

Yuuri had never seen such pretty drinks in his life. All the cocktails he'd ever come across involved pouring bottles of things into large punch bowls. Not that he drank that much. But these drinks had leaves, twirls of lemon, beautifully crusted salt rims and...were those flecks of gold? He grasped at his memories of cocktails and vaguely remembered Phichit saying Long Island iced tea was ‘delicious’.

“Long Island iced tea, please.” The waiter looked at Victor, who said, “The same, Jimmy. And some nibbles?” The waiter laid the drinks out cleanly and said “Very good, sir.”

Does he own the place? thought Yuuri, He seemed to know the staff well enough.

While the waiter stepped away to retrieve a selection of hor d'oeuvres, Yuuri took a quick sip of his drink. “Wow.” Phichit was right, this was delicious. Victor gave small smile at his interjection. Just then, Jimmy returned with a small tray of exquisite finger food that Yuuri couldn’t quite recognize.

“Now, Yuuri,” said Victor as the waiter stepped away again, “We should have a chat about what tonight entails.”

At this, Yuuri sneaked a peek at Victor, afraid that his bewilderment would shine through if he looked at Victor properly.

“I know it's not customary to jump right into a full date before we've had the chance to know each other a little. So, thank you for accepting my invitation tonight,” Victor paused and Yuuri set his drink on the table, amazed that asking for a coffee date had been the right protocol after all. His nerves settling a little, he finally lifted his eyes to look at his patron, “I was happy to...Victor,” he said, trying to keep his voice level. He was rewarded with a radiant beam.

“This is a networking event of sorts, so people are not that familiar with each other. Quite a few have plus ones as well, so you won't feel out of place. I'll mostly be introducing myself and you, of course. What should I say?”

His question caught Yuuri off guard. He was anticipating a full blown crash course on etiquette and what was expected of him. He racked his brains for the best image of himself. Homeless, debt-ridden college senior. Nope. Dancer? Sounds tarty.

“I do ballet,” he finally settled on, “mostly ballet. I have been exploring other forms as well but usually as inspiration for ballet. I'm also a college senior.” He’d avoided Victor’s gaze when talking about himself, but decided to sneak another peek to gauge his reaction. He saw surprise glinting in Victor's expression, followed by a smile that finally reached his eyes.

“Wonderful,” said Victor, sounding a little breathless. He stood in silence for a moment and then seemed to shake himself out of something, “I'll say you're studying ballet.”

Yuuri nodded his head. Victor seemed to take it as a sign that he was ready to begin, because he ate a ham thing and an egg thing in quick succession, then picked up his drink. Yuuri followed suit, using two hands to hold his glass to stop them from shaking, and Victor guided him gently by the elbow toward the double doors.

As they walked, he suddenly tensed, remembering Phichit was still on the phone. He reached his hand into his coat pocket, stole a quick glance at it to tap the red end-call button, and stuffed it back into his pocket. He glanced sideways at Victor to check his reaction. Victor seemed quite unfazed, with a vague, slightly amused smile on his face.

The doors were pushed open and they strode into a warm sea of conversations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any and all comments welcomed!


	2. The Arrangement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your lovely comments and kudos..... I feel so loved......  
> Beta'd by my wonderful sister (who wishes to remain anonymous...)  
> Hope you like this :D

 

Yuuri woke up the next day with a throbbing hangover.

Oh god…Please stop spinning, he thought, as he struggled to prevent the contents of his stomach from emerging. He _hated_ vomiting.

As the first wave of nausea passed, he realised he was on the couch in Phichit’s flat, surrounded by the cacophony of colors from their eclectic furniture. The sunlight streaming in between the curtains made it painful to open his eyes. Wait…How did he get back last night?

Before he could dig through his memory, Phichit appeared from his bedroom, his usual sunny self. The prototypical Morning Person.

“O-hai-yo, Yuuri! Great night, last night?” said Phichit, grinning from ear to ear.

Yuuri let out a pained groan in response. What happened last night? How many cocktails had he had? In fact, why could he feel bruises on his arms, his legs, his knees, essentially everywhere? What did he do to cause bruises?! Thank god he had finished his written exams for this semester, the pounding headache was unlikely to disappear by Monday.

Chuckling at Yuuri's wretchedness, Phichit handed him a bottle of Lucozade, an aspirin and a banana.

“Victor told me to give you this. Well, he gave me some money and told me to get you your usual hangover cures. Since you rarely get them, I bought _my_ usual cure instead. There's a McMuffin meal in the kitchen when you're ready.”

The cobwebs were swept away abruptly at Phichit’s remark. He sat up with a gasp and said, “You talked to Victor? Wh-when?” staring at Phichit in bewilderment.

“Wow were you wasted,” Phichit snorted, as he settled on the couch. “Last night, when he brought you back. You could barely stand upright. He had to haul you in.”

“Oh. My. God….” Yuuri moaned, as he rested his arm over his throbbing head, feeling the blush spreading from this cheeks to his ears. He could hear Phichit stifling his laughter beside him. “This is so embarrassing. I don't even remember half the things I did.”

“Well,” said Phichit, still grinning widely, “If you'd left me on the phone, I could've told you. All I know is that at midnight, Victor rang me on your phone saying that you needed some help getting home. So I told him the address and he brought you back.” With that, Phichit settled down to begin his daily social media routine on his phone.

Yuuri frowned. How did Victor know to ring Phichit? Then, Yuuri blushed again, remembering how Victor had seen him ending a call before going into the main hall. He probably assumed whoever was on the other end could be trusted. If he didn’t know I was new to this, he definitely knows it now, thought Yuuri, cringing internally at his inexperience. He guzzled down the Lucozade with the aspirin, trying to distract himself with the sudden rush of tingling bubbles. Amazingly, it seemed to help stop his stomach from lurching and the room from spinning so much. He moved on to attacking the banana, and his frowned deepened as his tried to recall what happened beyond the double doors.

 

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They stepped into a vast and cavernous hall, and Yuuri could feel a wall of warm air and conversation wash over him. A small jazz band was on a stage at the other end of the hall, and the saxophonist was crooning out a sultry tune, in perfect sync with the mesmerizing syncopated beats of the drummer. The hall was dimly-lit, submerged in a deep amber light that came mostly from a glimmering chandelier overhead, but also from small flickering candles dotted on tables around the hall. Yuuri could feel the slight creak of the wooden floorboards under his feet, and marvelled at the walnut wood panelling that covered the walls. There was an extremely long bar set into an alcove on the left side of the room, with glittering rows of multicolored liquor perched precariously on shelves of glass. An alarming number of bartenders stood behind the bar performing a mesmerising dance of mixing, pouring, shaking and in one instance, setting something on fire.

Yuuri remembered being overwhelmed by it all, and had taken large gulps of his Long Island iced tea to calm his nerves. A drink or two always helped to loosen him up. Victor’s guiding hand never left Yuuri’s elbow, as he steered them between the small and large groups that were packed together. Sometimes joining a group at the standing tables in the middle of the hall, other times drifting towards the right, where smaller groups had settled in leather lounge chairs tucked into a row of small alcoves. People were constantly weaving in and out, maintaining a continuous stream of chatter that seemed desperate to charm.

Yuuri had been introduced over and over again, and he struggled to keep up with the never-ending barrage of names until he gave up and decided to avoid addressing anybody directly. He couldn't quite remember exactly what he said to each person, most of the conversations had been mind-numbing, revolving around a world that was completely alien to him. What do you do? Do you play golf? Oh, you must try it someday. Have you seen so and so at the club recently? Have you met my wife or husband? You must tell them about your charity, dear.

Yuuri was soon hypnotised by this bizarre social dance, and began to lose count of the cocktails he had had to silence his jangling nerves. Through the haze of alcohol, he remembered seeing Victor with a smile plastered on his face, as he cheerfully engaged each speaker, drawing out details from them, putting them at ease with his lilting tone and rich voice, calmly diverting all questions about work or business with a gentle excuse. However, beneath this genteel facade, Yuuri felt as if everyone seemed to be sizing each other up. Some of the words seemed to mean a lot more than was said, and a number of them had given Victor knowing looks. Yuuri had felt Victor's grip tensing on his arm at times, his smile hardening slightly. Feeling slightly protective, Yuuri began to contribute more actively to the conversation, bringing in topics that Victor seemed to prefer and the more he did, the more it seemed that Victor’s stiff smile began to relax. So Yuuri had another cocktail to loosen his tongue a little more. And another. And another. And he slowly slipped into forgetfulness.

Then, his blush deepened as he remembered one scene vividly.  He wasn't sure how many cocktails he'd had by then, but someone was being very snarky to Victor. George, Yuuri thought his first name was, or a variation of it, and he had his arm possessively around a disgruntled-looking woman. After a few pleasantries, the George person had lifted an eyebrow at Yuuri and smiled knowingly, “Another paid date, Victor?”

Victor had drawn him closer and his grip on Yuuri’s elbow was nearly painful. Annoyed at this dig, Yuuri had replied without thinking, “Does this mean you don't pay for _any_ of your dates, Mr George?”

Yuuri had felt Victor stiffen behind him, but hadn't seen his expression. Then, Victor had quickly made an excuse to move on from the couple, and Yuuri’s memory blacked out again.

The only other thing he remembered was at some point, Victor had burst out laughing. A merry sound of pure mirth, like a babbling brook, that resounded through the cavernous hall.

God knows what else he had done that night. And he still didn't know where the bruises came from. Victor was probably the only one who could tell him the full story.

Oh dear. Victor. His phone. He needed to check his messages.  He groped around the coffee table to find his glasses, put them on and looked around the room to find his suit jacket. Phichit noticed his movements and gestured toward the side table on his left, where his phone was being charged. “Thanks, Phichit,” he said and unlocked it.

There it was. Another notification.

**Coffee when you're ready?** 09:10

 

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They agreed to meet that afternoon, but Yuuri insisted on finding his own way there, despite the lingering nausea. He didn’t feel up to accepting another favour from Victor. Not when he’d thoroughly embarrassed himself, and more importantly _Victor_ , in front of his business partners. Or whoever they were. Yuuri tried out a few different versions of apologies in his mind, grovelling seemed appropriate. He’d considered bringing the clothes he wore last night, but thought he should probably offer to have them dry cleaned before returning them to Victor.

He blushed at the memory of the suit jacket. When he was fussing with it, he’d found a Visa gift card in the inner pocket, with a note attached to it that said, “Thank you for your company. Please treat yourself to something nice.” Although the note was handwritten, Yuuri figured this was the standard protocol for all of Victor’s dates, and wondered how much was on the card. Not much, he hoped, but that seemed unlikely because the amount was probably fixed. So, Yuuri thought the best thing would be to return it as well.

He approached the Lowell Hotel, his footsteps slowing as he walked past the rose-colored facade toward the front doors. He tried to give the doorman a small nod of acknowledgement without flinching as the marble-framed doors were pushed open. He felt even more out of place here, standing in the bright, sun-filled lobby and facing the sweeping marble staircase. The setting was much grander last night, but here…the reality of what he was getting into was so much more coarse and unsavoury in the light of day. He glanced around the lobby for any indication of something called the Pembroke Room and followed the signs up the stairs, trying not to let his footfalls echo as he walked.

On the second floor, he found a set of large French doors guarded by a stern-looking hostess standing behind an elegant podium. A small brass sign indicated he had come to the right place, but he hesitated slightly, not expecting such a fancy tea-room based on its name.

The hostess looked up at his approach, which drove away all possibility of running madly away.

“Is Mr. Nikiforov here?” he asked, trying to keep his voice from wavering.

The hostess smiled, “Not yet, sir. But he has reserved a table. If you would like to follow me?” They pushed past the French doors, and entered what looked more like a garden than a restaurant. There were delicate arrangements of white roses and hydrangeas on the tables, complementing the muted colors of the upholstered chairs and the beige diamond-patterned carpet. He was led to a table by the window, framed by heavy, tasseled curtains, overlooking the bustle of the busy street below. He sat down awkwardly and took the menu she was holding out. “Would you like to order something to drink now, sir? Or should I come back when Mr Nikiforov arrives?” she asked, in a not-unfriendly voice.

“Erm...some water would be nice, thank you,” he mumbled and turned to look at the menu. He was still having problems thinking properly with the awful throbbing in his head. Where was Victor? He can’t be that early. He got his phone out discreetly to check the time, and felt a squeeze in his chest. He was a full twenty minutes early. When the hostess returned with his water, he gave her an apologetic look and said, “I’m sorry. I just realized how early I am.”

She looked kindly at him and replied, “It’s quite alright, sir. Mr Nikiforov is always a little early in any case. So we like to have his table ready well in advance.”

Yuuri twisted his napkin nervously as he tried to read the menu. After a while, he found that he had been staring at the word ‘salmon’ for some time. He looked toward the French doors again, hoping to catch a glimmer of silver hair. Then, glanced down at this phone. Only to find that it had only been five minutes since he last checked. Since he _was_ alone and very fidgety, he didn’t think it would be too rude to catch up on the news for now.

He was chuckling softly at an article when there was movement in his peripheral vision. He looked up and saw Victor walking towards him with a gentle smile, looking effortlessly dashing in a white collared shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a silvery grey vest with faint damask patterns, and crisp black trousers. Yuuri hastily stuffed his phone back into his pocket and stood up, finding he couldn’t speak as he stood there staring into Victor’s vivid blue-green eyes, partially veiled by his platinum hair.

Victor seemed to take pity on him, and broke the silence, “Hello, Yuuri. Shall we sit?”

Yuuri nodded and sat down abruptly. He took the chance to break his gaze away from Victor, and stared at the cutlery instead.  As he struggled to remember which version of apology he had decided on, Victor’s voice derailed his train of thought again.

“So, what were you looking at? You seemed very amused.”

“Oh,” Yuuri looked up, surprised at the question, “Just some article about whether the president-elect will be good for business.”

Victor’s smile widened at his reply, “And what was the verdict?”

Yuuri gave an involuntary chuckle, remembering what the article had concluded, “Probably depends on who you are,” he said, grinning.

Victor laughed appreciatively, “I agree,” he said and opened the menu. “Would you like to try the afternoon tea?”

Yuuri had actually forgotten why they were here and nodded on instinct. Any food is good food, especially free food.

He tried to compose himself while Victor ordered for the both of them, thankfully asking them to swap out the champagne for normal tea. When the hostess left, he plucked up the courage to face his embarrassment.

“I'm sorry about last night,” he said, and stopped when he saw the look of surprise on Victor's face.

“What about, Yuuri?” asked Victor, genuine concern lacing his confusion.

“Um….” Yuuri hesitated, everything? he wanted to reply. But settled with, “I don't really remember much but I know I tend to be a little loud when I'm drunk. And Phichit said you had to help me home. So...sorry for embarrassing you, I guess.” He felt the heat spread from his cheeks to the back of neck.

“Oh, Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed, his mirthful tone startling Yuuri, “I had an excellent time last night. I can't remember having this much fun at these parties. Some of the things you said were priceless. I could see their little minds struggling for a clever comeback. You were a _little_ bit rowdy toward the end but so was everyone else,” and Victor gave him a small wink that seemed to say, your secret’s safe with me.

Yuuri could only gawp at him in stunned silence, which made Victor laugh out loud. “As for getting you home, I was going to do that anyway. And, Yuuri,” his tone became more serious and his gaze was directed at Yuuri's right hand, which was somehow clutching the Visa gift card, “If you were planning to return that gift card to me because you were embarrassed about last night, then please return it to your pocket.”

Yuuri looked down at the gift card in his right hand. He had taken it out subconsciously while Victor was ordering. Out of further embarrassment, he returned the card to his pocket and clasped his hands together.

“Better,” said Victor, almost sensually, as he leant back in his chair. Yuuri gulped at the nearly tangible tension of seduction in the air. Thankfully, the servers returned with their afternoon tea, which released him from the trance. Two loaded three-tier trays of goodies, one sweet and one savoury, from the looks of it, covered in dainty sandwiches, caviar, tarts, scones, and cakes. As they bustled around the table, pouring tea and rearranging the table to make space, Yuuri glanced up at Victor, feeling an odd longing for him use that tone again, or perhaps to hear his laughter. He silently wondered what he’d said or done last night to break Victor out of his reserved politeness and to laugh so freely in the stuffy hall.

They began to tuck in, and Yuuri bit into one of the best cucumber sandwiches he’d ever tasted, unable contain his obvious enjoyment. But Victor seemed quite pleased at Yuuri’s involuntary outbursts of indulgence, as he wore a rare smile that reached his unwavering gaze. When Yuuri returned his gaze, Victor blinked and seemed to snap out of something, then began speaking between bites of food. This time, sounding more curt and businesslike, more similar to the tone he’d used with his associates last night.

“I would like to continue our...mutually beneficial relationship, Yuuri. This is what I’m proposing. I will provide you with an apartment and a monthly allowance for the duration of our relationship, plus three months after its termination, so that you'll have time to adjust. In exchange, I would like you to accompany me to events and help me entertain my guests, like you did last night. I would also like you to get to know some of my major clients and close colleagues a little better, so things will be easier in future. I will, of course, let you know well in advance about any upcoming event. Last night was an exception, and if it does happen again, please feel free to refuse. In addition, I do not mind if I am not your only...patron, but I would prefer it if I am your main provider for now. Also, both you and I can propose the termination of this relationship at any point, and if this is something either of us feel we must do, then I prefer to end things in a congenial way. ”

Victor paused, resting his clasped hands on the table, and Yuuri could feel his expectant gaze. Throughout the flood of information, Yuuri had tried to focus on eating. His face was most probably bright red. For some reason, despite hoping for such an offer, he suddenly felt cheap and dirty, and struggled to bring himself to accept it.

“That's very generous of you,” he finally replied, his mind still racing to process everything, but somehow constantly fixated on the phrase “in exchange”. Yuuri couldn’t say any more, because he felt like throwing up, and he was quite sure it wasn’t because of the hangover. How did the pleasantness that had hung in the air a few moments ago vanish so abruptly, to be replaced by this sinking feeling in his stomach.

When Yuuri didn't continue, Victor shifted a little uncomfortably in his seat and cleared his throat.

“And before I forget,” he continued, “about the ah... _physical_ side of things” Yuuri felt his blush extend to the tips of his hair, “It would be a...bonus for me, but only if you were comfortable with it as well.”

Yuuri took a bite out of something that looked like an egg sandwich topped with caviar. He stared out onto the busy street as Victor’s words washed over him again. He could feel Victor’s anticipation radiating from across the table, and rationally he knew this was an amazing offer that benefitted both of them. But the thumping of his heart made him feel like this was an awful, awful thing to accept. He needed space to think about this. Not here. Not now. Not with Victor looking at him so intently. Not with a hangover.

“Thank you,” he eventually said, his uncertain tone made Victor’s face fall slightly, but he soldiered on, “I think...I think I may need some time to think about this, Mr Nikiforov.” Victor’s face fell further and Yuuri realized too late that his need for distance had translated into stiff formality. He looked away hastily, not sure how he should salvage this.

“O-of course,” said Victor, his voice quivering slightly, “Take as much time as you need. I understand.” Yuuri saw a wave of disappointment pass over Victor’s face, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.

They cleared the last tier in silence, and Yuuri felt the swelling urge to escape. He didn’t truly understand his hesitation in accepting the offer, but he felt sick. Sick of himself, what he was doing, and what Victor was offering. Mutually beneficial.

But he also remembered the carefree laughter at the party. How good it felt to complement and support Victor. How considerate and thoughtful Victor had been throughout, even now when he'd been as good as rejected, backing off immediately when Yuuri needed space. Yuuri found himself craving more of Victor’s company, even though he was disgusted at the circumstances that brought them together.

True, he thought, it was only the circumstances. If they hadn’t met through the app, he probably would’ve been quite happy to continue going out with Victor, and if later Victor had offered to pay for some things, Yuuri may still have relented when he was desperate, despite his stubbornness. The app just accelerated the process a little. And he was so close to finishing. And Victor seemed to really want this.

After their table was cleared, the servers came back with a small plate of macarons and two demi-tassess of coffee. Yuuri nibbled at one of the macarons and couldn't help a small moan of pleasure. It was exquisite, perfectly complemented by the coffee. When he opened his eyes, he saw Victor looking at him with a soft expression, one of longing, almost like a lost child. Yuuri’s heart broke at the sweetness of it and gave in.

“I would love to accept your offer, Victor.”

Victor immediately snapped to attention, looking confused and pleased at the same time. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes,” Yuuri replied, without a hint of doubt, “I would be honoured.”

 

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It all happened in a blink of an eye.

Yuuri began moving out of Phichit’s apartment the next day, finding the time to do so only because it was three days until the end of the fall semester. In previous years, he would’ve been busy taking written exams for his Liberal Arts or dance theory courses. But as a senior, the focus had shifted away from theory to preparing for their performances at the end of the school year, which meant that he could finish all his written exams the previous week and had no formal classes for the remaining three days.

Not that preparations for the performances had ceased completely, he only really had the evenings to shuttle back and forth. Although Victor’s secretary, Darlene, had arranged for someone to move his four sealed boxes from Phichit’s room to his new place, there was still a surprisingly large assortment of clothes, kitchenware, school stuff, toiletries and whatnots that had diffused their way into Phichit’s flat.

The day after that, Phichit and his flatmates had found themselves knee deep in gift cards, a mountain of groceries and a little too much booze -- everything three growing dancers needed for their winter break. Darlene had enclosed a note explaining that it was a thank you for their hospitality. That night, Yuuri decided to transfer the funds from the Visa gift card into his bank account, only to find that the amount in his account had already catapulted from two to four digits. Darlene was certainly efficient.

Yuuri felt as if the weight of the last four years had been lifted from his shoulders. He found that he had forgotten what it was like to have no worries. To just dance, to feel, and not to think. Even the performance that had hung around his neck like a boulder for the entire semester could not dispel the effervescent mood he was in.

Their ballet teacher had offered an extra session for those who will be performing solos and duets for the Juilliard Dances Repertory in March, one of the two most important performances of their time in Juilliard. Yuuri had known it would tax his already hectic schedule by opting to dance a duet, _in addition_ to the demanding Repertory group performances. But the group performances had leaned more towards modern dance, and Yuuri wanted the highlight of college life to involve ballet. So, he had insisted.

In a cruel twist of fate, for the first time in his life, he was struggling with a ballet piece. He never thought this was possible. He lived and breathed ballet, it was deep in his bones, the first and last thing on his mind. Yet, here he was, tasked with dancing the pas de deux from the Firebird by Stravinsky[1]. In the true spirit of Juilliard eccentricity, he had been asked to be the firebird itself, a part that traditionally belonged to the prima ballerina. His lucky friend Ricardo, on the other hand, got to be Prince Ivan, who pursues and nearly kills the firebird, but decides to let it go after it begs for its life, and so the firebird rewards him with a magical feather to summon it when he was in need. Yuuri had never before fought so viciously with relating to a character, and he still couldn’t come to grips with its emotions, or what it was thinking, or why in the world it decided to give the murderous Prince Ivan a feather.

Today, however, he danced with an unprecedented lightness. He was free. Free from worrying about his next rent, his next meal, his next paycheck. He was suddenly given the leisure to think about things other than basic subsistence. He felt like he was flying, and the sense of freedom had infused his entire dance, as Ricardo lifted and spun him in the air. His ballet teacher had commented on this, seeming unusually pleased. And Ricardo swore up and down that Yuuri felt lighter today.

Free..for the time being, his brain reminded him, as he packed up to go home. He wasn't sure how long this arrangement would last. Until Victor tires of me, he supposed, and his chest clenched a little at the thought of being abandoned for newer, more exciting things.

But he had Victor’s attention for now. Over the past few days, Victor had been sending him messages through the app.  Mostly confirming everything was fine, or asking whether Yuuri needed anything. But sometimes just interesting tidbits he'd come across, like a silly video of commuters being physically packed into the Tokyo metro[2], or an interesting article about the possible environmental impacts of the new administration. Yuuri had tried to reciprocate where he could, which always opened up even more interests they seemed to share.

Perhaps Yuuri could even hold onto Victor’s attention until the end of college, because Darlene had asked for a copy of Yuuri’s class and practice schedule for the rest of the year. She had gotten back soon after with Victor’s provisional schedule for the next three months, complete with highlights for all the events that Yuuri was requested to attend. Yuuri noticed that the next two weeks were jam-packed with events, with something nearly every other day. But they tapered off when the semester started again, and Yuuri was surprised to find that Sundays were oddly free, except for the occasional breakfast or brunch do. He suspected this had been arranged on purpose, and wondered how Victor knew that his only proper day off was extremely precious. It all seemed like semi long-term arrangement, and the thought made his heart skip a beat.

When he left the campus, his feet nearly took him onto the subway toward Phichit’s apartment, and he stopped himself in time before crossing the ticket barrier -- his new place was now only two blocks away from school. He turned back towards the exit, slightly embarrassed, and hoped that no one was paying too much attention, as he battled against the flow of people.

The new place was one of the tallest buildings in the area. It had a doorman, watchfully guarding its metallic art-deco doors. There were potted plants in the lobby. The elevator looked like it was gilded in gold. Yuuri felt like a street rat in a palace. He'd smiled nervously at the doorman, slightly afraid he would be asked to show some ID. He still wasn’t sure how to get his mail, but didn't know who to ask. As he ascended to the 11th floor, he noticed a light fragrance in the air, and his brain struggled to process the idea of someone actually _cleaning_ an elevator.

He fumbled slightly with the unfamiliar lock and key, but when it clicked open with ease, Yuuri couldn't help being amazed at how it _didn't_ put up a small fight. The door slid open silently to reveal the one-bedroom apartment, awashed in the light of dusk.

The herringbone pattern of light chestnut on the parquet floor opened into an airy, open-planned space with white walls. His four boxes stood open in a row behind a navy blue couch, half unpacked. A minimalistic lamp stood over the couch, mirrored by a smaller version of itself perched on a simple work desk next to the furthest window in the living area. A pair of intricately carved bookends stood expectantly on the window sill within easy reach of the desk. There were two white doors to the left of the desk, one leading to the bedroom and the other to the bathroom. The cosiness of the living area was juxtaposed by the metallic, industrial fittings in the kitchen area. The cooker and its multitude of storage drawers stood in the middle, backing onto a long breakfast table with a mahogany top. The entire apartment seemed to be encircled by large bay windows framed by light grey curtains, further enhancing the spaciousness the place seemed to exude.

Yuuri lingered near the doorway, still feeling like a stranger in his new apartment. Not for the first time, he wondered how many people had lived here before him. Everything had been arranged so quickly that he didn’t doubt Victor owned this apartment. It seemed like the sensible thing to do, especially if many of those he dated were in the same predicament as Yuuri. But the thought only served to remind Yuuri of all the things he didn’t like about this relationship. Thinking like this wasn’t helpful. He took off his glasses to rub his eyes, and brought himself back down to earth.

He needed food. The kitchen was well-equipped but devoid of anything edible. Takeout it is then, he thought. Still standing near the doorway, he sent Phichit a quick message,

**Come over after practice? Chinese?** 18:45                       

**Be there in twenty minutes. My usual please!!** 18:47

After ordering food over the phone, and nearly giving the wrong address, he walked hesitantly towards the bathroom, not entirely sure what he should do, here, by himself, in this lovely, spacious, designer apartment. Where he felt more like a guest than an occupant. He didn’t feel comfortable moving around in this space alone, even for twenty minutes. He was half tempted to sit at the doorway until Phichit arrived.

But the part of him that had carried him through every time he had cried alone in the dark, or every time his instructors had said, you need to be better than this, Yuuri. Or when he had stood out in the cold on the curb with his luggage as he handed his key to his landlady on his birthday. That part now emerged, forcing him to accept his new reality, and marching him into the bathroom for a shower.

When Phichit arrived, Yuuri was arranging his small book collection on the windowsill near the work desk. Since Phichit had been there the whole time he moved, Yuuri didn't have to worry about him getting past the doorman.

His presence immediately quelled Yuuri’s rising need to panic and escape. His sunny chatter about practice, how he'd gotten into trouble for changing some of the choreography, and how the choreographer had reluctantly relented in the end. Yuuri listened contentedly as he continued to unpack, laughing when Phichit did a bang on impression of their modern dance teacher trying to placate the ruffled feathers of the choreographer. Food followed shortly after.

They fell into a comfortable silence as they wolfed down their dinner. When they were done, Phichit sank back into the couch and sighed with contentment, while Yuuri brought the dishes to the kitchen. But instead of whipping out his phone, Yuuri could feel Phichit looking at him from the living area, and he returned a questioning glance. For the first time since they've met, Phichit looked hesitant about saying something, which was worrying in itself. Yuuri left the dishes to soak and went back to the living room, hovering near the couch.

“Yuuri,” Phichit began slowly, “How are you feeling about all this?”

He knew this was coming. Phichit had given him the necessary space but now it was time. His lips tightened as he examined his feelings truthfully, trying to shape them into words.

“Half of me wishes I was still back on your couch,” he said, grimacing slightly, “it's the part that also wonders if I gave in too easily. “ Phichit nodded in sympathy, “But the other half is ecstatic. And so relieved that I can finally focus on dancing, instead of, of….everything else”, he said tiredly, as he waved his hand aimlessly in the air, “Phichit, even Foghorn commented on it today. She could see how relieved I was and kept saying good job Yuuri, you are finally _ONE_ with the firebird,” they giggled at that, remembering all the others things their ballet teacher had wanted them to be ‘one’ with. Yuuri flopped down onto the couch next to Phichit, and folded his legs into a comfortable lotus position.

“And he's very nice, Phichit. I don't just mean all the things he's done. I mean, him, as a person,” he paused, coming close to admitting how much he enjoyed Victor’s constant presence these past few days, if only through the app.

“What does he do?” Phichit asked casually.

“Some kind of tobacco company,” replied Yuuri, seeing no point in hiding the fact that he had done some ‘background research’. “Darlene used her work email, so I looked up the company. Based somewhere in New York. Very large. I think the founder still runs it and he has the same surname as Victor, so I’m guessing they are related somehow.”

“Interesting…” Phichit nodded thoughtfully, “Almost a family-owned business. Were they Russian? The name sounds Russian.”

“Probably. Victor had a slight accent when he was tipsy,” said Yuuri, shrugging slightly.

“And, do you think he’s...maybe, the heir?” Phichit ventured.

“I’m not sure. Actually,” Yuuri looked away, distracting himself by massaging his aching feet, “I felt like I was prying, so I stopped. I’ll find out more tomorrow anyway. I’m supposed to meet a few of his close colleagues for brunch.”

“Yuuri,” Phichit’s serious tone made him look up, and he saw the same hesitation again. Then, Phichit gave a small smile and said, “Just be careful.”

Yuuri nodded. Knowing full well he was forging a bond that may hurt deeply when it had to be broken off. But he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

His heart pounded a little faster when his phone went off. There was another message from Victor. 

Today

**Hi, Yuuri. Would you mind if I changed a few things around tomorrow?**   20:32

**Of course. My winter break just started so I don’t have much going on.**   20:32

**Great. I’ve moved your tailor’s appointment to tomorrow morning before brunch with Mila and the rest. I’d like to be there for the fitting, if that’s fine? Same place at 9.** 20:33

**Certainly. It would be good to make sure they’ve given me the right things.**   20:37

**Should I read up on something before the brunch? Maybe about your company?** 20:38

**Absolutely not necessary! Please don’t worry. And try to enjoy yourself :)** 20:38

**I’m looking forward to it.**   20:39

**Me too. I’ll see you then.**   20:43

 

It was odd how quickly he had become accustomed to this arrangement. And how his elbow seemed to miss the guiding touch of Victor’s hand.

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 [Firebird ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EC6MmmLKEmA)pas de deux  [ return to text ]  
> 2 [Commuters being packed into a train! ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1R0FanSTyOw)Still amazed at how polite the staff are. [ return to text ]
> 
> All comments welcomed!


	3. Complications

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again! Thank you so much for your comments and kudos!!! I feel very loved........  
> As usual, beta'd by my very supportive sister :D  
> Hope you like this chapter!

 

Victor stood outside the boutique, waiting with two coffees in a cup holder. He’d arrived slightly early to meet the valet service he’d booked through the Luxe app, thanking the stars that he didn’t have to trawl through the streets of New York for a parking spot. 

But now Yuuri was slightly late. He stood there wondering why Yuuri had declined a ride from the apartment, like he had when they met for tea last week. Then again, people tended to be a little more guarded when they met through the dating app.

In fact, he himself hadn’t bothered to correct Yuuri’s assumption of why he wanted to be at the fitting this morning. Yuuri seemed to think he was here to check that everything was in order, and Victor gave a helpless laugh at that. But he didn’t know how to explain that, to much tongue clicking from Darlene, he had rearranged his entire morning schedule just to be here, because he wanted to spend some time alone with Yuuri.

Yuuri was not what he’d expected. He’d expected someone more like the others on the sugar dating app. Someone who wanted to have some fun but without the means to do so. Someone who didn’t come with many strings attached and didn’t really want to make a deep connection. It was the kind of relationship that suited his circumstances.

But he had been fascinated from the first moment he saw Yuuri nervously trying to talk his way past Sebastian. He grinned at the memory of the cocktail party. Yuuri had been a breath of fresh air in that dank and dusty hall. Victor had spent a lot of time in that venue over the past ten years, but that night had been the first time he had enjoyed himself. Yuuri's straightforward views, that came from beyond Victor’s circle of businesspeople, had torn through the self-entitled smugness of his associates. 

He'd thoroughly enjoyed seeing Yuuri bulldoze over the assumptions they made about the world and themselves. And he'd absolutely loved it when Yuuri had let himself go towards the end. He’d never laughed so much in his life. Even Chris had joined in the fun.

The thing that most fascinated him, he had decided, was that when Yuuri looked at him, he couldn't see the glamour and charm that Victor had lathered on, and was always searching for something else. Yuuri had pulled away when Victor had tried to hide behind the safety of nonchalance as he laid down the terms of their relationship, like he had with so many others before. He knew that Yuuri had come close to rejecting the arrangement. But when Victor had let his guard down and revealed  _ only for a moment  _ how much he wanted this, Yuuri had given in immediately. It was both baffling and enticing.

He spotted a figure half-jogging towards him and smiled. It was Yuuri, with his hair unkempt and glasses askew, looking like he’d just jumped out of bed. Getting coffee had been the right thing to do.

“Good morning, Yuuri,” he called out, as Yuuri approached.

“I’m sorry I’m late!” Yuuri replied, sounding slightly out of breath, “I must’ve missed the alarm.”

“Don’t worry about it, Yuuri. Coffee?” he asked, as he held out one of the takeaway cups. Yuuri took it gratefully and shot a shy smile at Victor, mumbling something that sounded like thank you.

They stepped through the front door of Cialdini’s and a bell tinkled overhead. Victor loved this little family-owned boutique. Celestino, the owner and head tailor, had a brusque and infectious joviality that reminded Victor of hearty meals and Italian villas. Two of his five children helped him to run the boutique, while another two helped his wife to run a cafe nearby where he got their coffees. They were all as loud and vivacious as he was. Victor couldn’t imagine the decibel levels at their family gatherings.  

“Victor!” came a booming voice from within, as a large figure with broad shoulders came forward to greet them. “Back again, eh? And who's this?” he peered over Victor’s shoulder, spotted Yuuri, and said with a grin, “Ah, yes. Mr. Size S.” 

Victor stole a glance over his shoulder to see Yuuri blushing and heard him reply, “So sorry about that. I wasn't thinking when I --” 

But Celestino waved his apology away and interrupted, “No, no. I was mainly annoyed at Victor for making me rush. Your visit this time will be more pleasant. Come, follow me, both of you,” he said, as he beckoned them towards the back room where there was a small podium surrounded by mirrors, and a tiny changing room.

Victor settled in one of the comfy chairs in the room to observe, as Celestino’s children came bustling in with tape measures, fabrics and a rack full of clothes. Yuuri was ushered onto the podium, and tape measures began dancing up and down his torso, as Celestino’s children called out the measurements for him to scribble down. Then, Yuuri was sent back and forth to the changing room with armfuls of clothes, with Celestino supervising the entire planned chaos, sending his children scurrying to and fro for other pieces of clothing. 

Yuuri looked a little overwhelmed by this experience, looking as though he couldn’t tell any of the clothing apart if not for the small price tags attached to them. He could only stare in confusion as Celestino began asking him whether he preferred a cumberband or a waistcoat for black tie, whether he wanted to be a bit adventurous and have a patterned suit jacket for his evening look, and whether he wanted the standard white tie for formal events or some kind of Japanese national costume, but if he wanted a national costume, then Celestino would have to ask so and so about it, but it may take a week etc.

Throughout this barrage of questions, Yuuri kept turning towards Victor, as if to ask for his opinion, or more likely for his help. Although Victor wanted to take pity on him and lend a hand, he knew he had to make something very clear -- that he was not here to question Yuuri’s choices or to check up on what Yuuri chose to wear. So, Victor had only smiled and said, “Your choice, Yuuri.” 

Yuuri had looked a little surprised and perplexed at this, which made him secretly glad. The only time Victor felt he had to intervene was when Celestino came out with a selection of neckties. Anything to prevent a repeat of the last travesty.

After the flurry of clothes, Celestino tried to take Yuuri through the different dress codes again to clear up his confusion, but realized after a while that they were still getting nowhere, and said in earnest, “I will pin a note to each set so you’ll know what you need to wear. Make sure you don’t lose the notes.”

When Celestino finally released him, Yuuri stumbled over and collapsed in one of the stuffed chairs next to Victor.

Victor smiled widely at him and said, “Surely you’ve been fitted for your dance costumes before?”

Yuuri gave him a weary look, “Many times. But none of the costume designers are so... _ involved. _ ” 

Victor chuckled at that, “Celestino likes to overdo things, but he’s the best around.” Suddenly intrigued, Victor tried to sound casual as he asked, “What was the last costume you were fitted for?”

Yuuri seemed to blush a little at this, and gave a shy smile as he replied, “The firebird. For a ballet piece by Stravinsky.”

Victor raised his eyebrows in surprise, “Isn’t that usually a female part?”

Yuuri gave a small sigh of resignation, “Yes, but my teacher wanted to see if I could re-interpret it into something else. I can’t seem to get very far with it. But at least the costume won’t come with a tutu. Just...fire motifs, I think.” 

Yuuri didn’t seem very happy about the entire affair, but despite his defeated tone, Victor couldn’t help letting his imagination run wild at the thought of Yuuri dancing this piece. He had seen the ballet before, and he suddenly felt breathless with a desperate need to see Yuuri as the firebird.

He snapped back to reality when Yuuri started squirming, and realized that he had been staring at Yuuri with his mouth slightly open. 

Not again, he thought, as he blinked and looked away in embarrassment. He had done the same thing at the cocktail party, when Yuuri had said he was studying ballet. It had been so unexpected that he’d been blown away by a mental image of Yuuri’s lithe figure bounding lightly across the stage. 

Thankfully, Celestino returned at that moment with the bill and a set of clothes for the upcoming brunch. As Yuuri went to change a final time, Victor looked through the bill. He frowned as he realized that Yuuri had chosen the cheapest possible option of everything, except the ties. 

Well, this was a bizarre turn of events. His brilliant plan to covertly make sure Yuuri got what he wanted had backfired in the most unexpected way possible. He even felt slightly offended by this. Surely Yuuri knew he was more than happy to pay for anything, so why was he even  _ thinking _ about the price? 

But his annoyance was short-lived. When they stepped out of the boutique, with Celestino and his children waving them off, Yuuri had spotted his signature red Tesla waiting for them at the entrance. He had stopped in his tracks and blurted out, “Oh my god, it’s a Tesla Model S! I-is that  _ yours _ ?”

Victor beamed and nodded excitedly. He’d insisted on having an electric car, and when Tesla released their first luxury sedans with their sleek exterior and stealthy silence, Victor had pounced like a cat on a rat. It was one of two things he adored most in the world. The other being his dog. And Yuuri obviously liked one of them, as he fawned over the car and pointed out features that even Victor didn’t know about. Now, if only Yuuri liked dogs…

Yuuri’s animation over the car had made him more relaxed and they chatted a little more freely on the way to brunch. Victor tried to use the short time they had to learn as much as he could about Yuuri. His favorite food, his favorite song, his favorite color. 

After a while, the conversation turned to pets, and he’d casually asked whether Yuuri liked dogs.

Yuuri seemed to glow at this question and replied, “I have a dog, and his name is Vicchan. He’s a toy poodle, but he’s back home in Japan.”

At this revelation, Victor’s couldn’t help himself, and replied with much more excitement than he’d intended, “I have a poodle too! His name is Makkachin!”

“Really?” Yuuri had asked in amazement, “Can I meet him?”

A warmth spread through Victor’s chest, and he smiled brightly as he replied, “Yes, of course. You’ll see him at the Christmas party this weekend.”

Yuuri responded with a radiant smile and they settled into contented silence.

He stole a glance at Yuuri’s glowing face as they approached the Lafayette. Yuuri’s relaxed state had almost given him the courage to bring up the topic that had weighed heavily on his mind. He himself wasn’t sure whether Yuuri should know everything. But he couldn’t bear to ruin this precious moment. Maybe later.

 

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The Lafayette Grand Cafe and Bakery was a regular haunt of Victor’s. He breathed in the fresh fragrance of breads and pastries as he pushed open the door to the bakery. Technically, he should’ve gone through the other door to the dining area. But he loved walking past the blue-starred tiles of the bakery, with its colorful display of cakes and macaroons, and its lively bustle amidst vases of muted flowers. 

The hostess smiled when she saw them entering the dining area and gestured towards the private room upstairs with a look that said, you know the drill.

Victor felt a slight nagging of guilt as they ascended the stairs to the Salle Privée. He hadn’t told his any of his colleagues that Yuuri would be coming to brunch, or about the entire arrangement, or about the mother of all bombshells that he was about to drop. 

It had all happened so quickly and he hadn’t been able to find the right time to explain anything to anyone. Only Darlene knew all the details. He imagined that Mila would be completely unaffected, but the other two will probably need more persuasion. They’ll adapt, he thought to himself, I’ve put them through worse. 

He felt Yuuri leaning into his hand as he guided them up the stairs, and wondered what would happen if he slid his hand to the small of Yuuri’s back. He stopped himself with a sharp intake of air. He couldn’t risk Yuuri pulling away from him now, facing the group would be complicated enough as it was.

As he slid open the doors to the Salle Privée, three pairs of eyes turned towards them. And exactly as he’d expected, Georgi’s eyes narrowed in hostility, Chris’ were brimming with concern, while the feisty Mila merely looked curious and somewhat entertained. 

He felt Yuuri freezing under the surprised glares of his colleagues. He could see the recognition dawn on Yuuri’s face as he remembered Georgi from the party, and the exchange they’d had. Oh dear, maybe he should’ve warned Yuuri at least. 

“Good morning, everyone,” he said cheerfully, trying to pretend that everything was shiny, and gently guided Yuuri into a chair.

“New friend, Victor?” Mila asked cheekily, eyeing him with a sly glint in her eye. Victor saw the blush spreading across Yuuri’s cheeks, as he gave Victor a panicked look. Victor’s brain gave him a good kick. He really should’ve given Yuuri a head’s up. 

“Mila, this is Yuuri Katsuki. The person who saved me when you stood me up. Yuuri, this is Mila Babicheva, one of my colleagues.” Mila raised an eyebrow at him, as if to say, is that  _ all _ I am? Victor gave her discreet little nod and she shrugged nonchalantly. He moved on to the other two.

“You remember Georgi Popovich and Christopher Giacometti from the party?” Yuuri looked like he wanted to say something, but then nodded instead. 

“Of course he does,” said Chris in a suggestive tone, his concern replaced by a lusty look, “Who could forget such a fun night, eh Yuuri?” To which, Yuuri’s eyes widened in alarm. Victor shot Chris a glare, trust him to bring up something that Yuuri was so obviously embarrassed about. 

“Can we finally get some food now?” interrupted Georgi in his deep voice, sounding annoyed, his eyes still narrowed in animosity. 

“Yes, of course,” said Victor in a bright tone, trying to keep the atmosphere light. He rang the bell on the table, and a waiter came in to take their orders. Victor tensed slightly when the waiter looked expectantly at Yuuri. He’d rung the bell out of habit because everyone else already knew what they were having, but he hadn’t given Yuuri time to even look at the menu. Thankfully, Yuuri only smiled and said, “I’ll have what he’s having,” which made Victor melt a little on the inside.

As they settled down to wait, Mila grinned at Yuuri and said, “We do this every month. It’s an excuse to get away from the old warhorses in the company, while still pretending to work.”

Victor gave an internal chuckle. The old warhorses were the senior management of his father’s company, and they were quite a handful, with their staunch over-protectiveness and vigilant watchfulness over the company’s every move. Victor has had many run-ins with them and had the battle scars to prove it. The only old warhorse who came close to being flexible was Yakov Feltsman, his father’s right-hand man. 

“Is this a work meeting?” asked Yuuri, returning Mila’s smile with a worried look, “I wouldn’t want to interrupt anything.”

“Yes and no,” said Chris, “We’re part of the same team in the company, so our talk tends to be about work. But we’re too young to mix with the old-timers, and too senior for others our age. So, this is more like a support group, actually. Keeps us from being too lonely,” he winked at Yuuri, who seemed even more confused at the explanation.

“What Chris was trying to say,” Victor gave him an exasperated look, “is that we all work for my father’s tobacco company, and we’re heading the project to begin expansions into the Russian market. So, we’re not senior management, but we lead quite a large team of people. Chris is our indispensable head of marketing.” 

“He means I’m in charge of seducing our clients to give us their money,” interrupted Chris, and he raised his eyebrows flirtatiously at Yuuri. 

“And he’s little  _ too _ good at his job,” Victor retorted in mock annoyance and continued, “Mila’s in charge of operations and logistics.”

Mila gave a snort, “I’m in charge of making sure these two knuckleheads don’t promise to do what we can’t deliver.”

Victor smiled and gave Yuuri a helpless look, “Mila makes sure we toe the line.” He gestured to Georgi, who was still stewing in the corner, “And Georgi’s our financial head.” Yuuri had stolen a nervous glance at Georgi, who had remained silent after the introduction.

“What about you, Victor?” Yuuri asked with an innocent look of curiosity on his face.

“Ah, yes. I oversee everything,” said Victor, and stared thoughtfully into space, with a finger on his bottom lip, “Although, I’m still not entirely sure why my father asked me to take over this project.”

It was an honest statement. Victor knew that his father had always wanted to venture into the Russian market, citing decreasing sales in the US as the reason to expand abroad, and choosing Russia because of its astounding number of smokers. 

But he also knew the real reason was that his father felt very strongly about their Russian roots and wanted to reestablish ties to Russia. Victor was almost sure that his father’s sentiments had begun to cloud his better judgement, and had never been convinced that Russia was the right move.

Chris laughed heartily at his remark and said, “Of course he had to. It’s because you’re the one who gave the  _ only _ sensible idea in this ridiculous nightmare of a venture!”

At that, Georgi spoke up for the first time in a harsh voice, “It is  _ not _ ridiculous. It is a solid business plan and the boss made the right move. The market is full of potential and the fact that so many of us in the company are of Russian descent will give us an edge.”

Victor rolled his eyes slightly at Georgi’s outburst. He seemed to have a blind loyalty for Vladimir Nikiforov, and Victor sometimes wondered whether they had been switched at birth. Georgi would certainly have projected a better image as the heir to the Nikiforov company. Thankfully, Mila cut in before Georgi could continue ranting.

“Boys, boys. Let’s not drag poor Yuuri into our mess,” she said, giving Yuuri a sympathetic glance.

“So, what was your idea, Victor?” asked Yuuri in earnest, giving Victor another innocent look of genuine interest.

Victor’s felt a warm glow under Yuuri’s keen attention. It  _ had _ been a good idea, even if it meant more pressure had been put on him to take up a project that he didn’t really believe in. And it did mean that  _ Papa _ had relented and agreed to begin negotiations with manufacturers in Japan. Now,  _ that  _ was a project that Victor believed in. His eyes gleamed at the possibilities in Japan, which could even be a stepping stone into China.

“It’s been a dream of my father’s to sell the Nikiforov brand in Russia,” he replied carefully, “But we were struggling initially because… well, because of the current political and business climate. So, I suggested that instead of breaking into the Russian market with our basic cigarettes and chewing tobacco, we should start with our more glamorous products, like cigars and snuff. Smaller production, higher profit margins, lower risks.”

“Better clientele too,” Chris chipped in, “I got roped into this because I can make anything sound sexy, especially to rich, bald men.” Victor shook his head and chuckled at his hopeless friend. How did he manage to make everything sound so dirty?

At that moment, there was a small knock at the door. Followed by servers streaming in with baskets of pastries and breads, pots of coffee and tea, and delicate plates of brunch food. Victor always ordered the omelette, and Yuuri seemed to be looking at the identical copy of his with wonder.

“So, Yuuri. What were you two up to this morning?” Mila asked casually as they started eating, but also giving Victor a sly sideward glance. Victor winced, so someone did notice that he had brushed off a meeting this morning.

“Victor was kind enough to get a few suits made for me at Cialdini’s,” said Yuuri with a blush, sounding slightly flustered. Victor was sure now that Yuuri was actually embarrassed about Victor buying him stuff. But that was the whole point of the arrangement! he thought in confoundment.

Yuuri continued, “They took my measurements this morning and said they would send the suits to Vic-...I mean...my new apartment.”

Chris perked up at this, “Apartment? You mean, the Century? Near Central Park?”

“Yes,” answered Yuuri, clearly unaware of its significance. And of Chris’ tense body language as he shot Victor another look of concern. Georgi’s eyes had widened at this and he was glaring openly at Victor. Oh dear, he really hadn’t meant anyone to find out about the apartment so soon. Why the hell were these two so perceptive? And nosy? And now Georgi looked like he might explode.

To his horror, he caught a canny look from Mila, the familiar look that always came before she did something to upset the apple cart.

“And will you be coming to Victor’s birthday party this Sunday, Yuuri?”, she asked offhandedly. 

Georgi’s glare turned into a glower, while Yuuri looked at Victor in surprise, “Birthday party? I thought it was a Christmas party?”

“They happen to fall on the same day,” Victor smiled, trying not to return Georgi’s glower.

“Oh, I didn’t know that,” Yuuri replied in a breathless voice, looking as if this bit of information sounded magical to him. He turned to give Mila an angelic smile that made Victor’s heart stop, “Yes, I have been invited too.”

Georgi suddenly stood up, “A word, Victor?” his deep voice shaking with the effort to contain his anger, as he gestured towards the door. Victor cast a nervous glance at Yuuri to make sure he was alright, and then gave a curt nod. 

 

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They left the others and stepped out of the room. Victor made sure to close the doors fully, not wanting Yuuri to overhear anything. 

“What the hell is this, Victor?” Georgi snapped, as soon as the doors were closed, coming close to yelling. 

Victor ran his fingers through his hair, not knowing how to reply. He knew in his gut that this was the right thing to do, but he couldn’t quite put his instincts into words yet.

When Victor didn’t reply, Georgi continued in lower voice, “What will your father say? Does he even know about this latest one? He wanted this to stop two months ago,” 

“It  _ did _ stop. But I was in a fix when Mila --” 

“I know he filled in for Mila last Saturday. And I let that slide because you could never man up and be alone at a party.” Victor tensed but couldn’t retaliate before Georgi pressed on. “And thankfully no one else seemed to think too much about it, even with the scene he made at the end. But what about everything else? Why did you let him stay in the apartment? Why did you even bring him here? Is this actually going to continue? Are you trying to sabotage our entire --”

“Georgi,” Victor cut him off with firm tone, “I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?” Georgi replied angrily, “We were supposed to announce the engagement at the party  _ this weekend _ , Victor. You need to stop this now.” 

Victor stared silently at Georgi. He was right. 

It could jeopardize the careful image that he and Mila had crafted over the years, and they had been planning the announcement of their engagement for months now.

The old warhorses had been reluctant to let Victor succeed as his father’s heir to the company, because to them, he was disgraceful. To them, falling in love and marrying a man was unacceptable as the Nikiforov heir. Victor knew he could never change who he was, but he didn’t want to break his father’s heart. His father wanted the company to stay within the Nikiforov family. 

So, he’d come up with a compromise. Mila had been in a similar quandary with her ultra-orthodox family, and they had agreed years ago to this solution. They would pose as a couple, eventually get engaged, and then get married. To the public, they would parade as a happy pair, with an odd quirk for liking arm candy, often joking that this would give the other person a night off. In private, they could be what they wanted.  

The warhorses had bought it. And agreed to support Victor as the successor should Vladimir decide to retire.

But the charade began to take a toll on Victor. Mila was less in the spotlight, and no one batted an eyelid when she turned up at events with her girlfriends, everyone assuming they were just close friends. It was different for Victor, he couldn’t seem to appear in public with anybody too frequently without rumors flying, and that had put a strain on all of his budding relationships. 

He’d eventually turned to the sugar daddy dating app, because those were the only relationships that could possibly exist under this arrangement. Short-term, casual fun, with no strings attached. 

Now that the engagement was drawing near, they had both agreed to stop appearing in public with other people. Mila’s last long-term girlfriend had only lasted two months under the secrecy. And Victor couldn’t even imagine  _ starting _ a relationship under these circumstances.

And after the engagement, the Russian project would be in full swing. With the slightly more intolerant views in Russia, there would be even less room for Victor to have  _ any _ sort of relationship. 

Victor needed to do this. Both for his sake and Yuuri’s. Just two months of lavishing Yuuri in luxury, breaking it off, and then announcing the engagement a month later. Three months of self-indulgence. Yuuri would be able to finish his senior year with the three additional months Victor had promised. And Victor would be able to spend some time with the person that had so captured his fascination.

“Georgi,” he finally said, “I will be postponing the announcement by three months. It will not change anything.”

Georgi looked as if he wanted to retort in anger, but then seemed to recognize the finality in Victor’s tone and knew from experience not to push any further. Georgi knew that he was right. Three months wouldn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, and they all knew everything that Victor had given up for this company. He was entitled to a little risk.

Georgi took a deep breath to calm himself, and asked in an even tone, “Who’s going to tell your father?”

“I will,” replied Victor, his heart already heavy with dread. 

But as he slid open the door leading back to the private room, he saw Yuuri laughing at something Mila had said, and he knew that he had made the right choice.

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All comments welcomed!  
> In case you'd like to follow me on tumblr, my username is [weberina](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/weberina), and I post sporadically about random things....


	4. The Christmas Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slightly longer wait..... Hope you like this update!!  
> And thanks as always for your encouraging comments and kudos :D  
> Beta'd by my supportive sister (who found time even working 16 hours a day this week!!!!)

 

Yuuri glanced up in awe as they drove past the large metal gates of the Nikiforov mansion, and down a long driveway, to an immense Gothic-style building that reminded Yuuri of a television series that Phichit adored.

He tried to peer up at the sheer size of the building from the tinted windows of the limo that Victor had sent to pick him up. Yuuri had vaguely considered trying to find his own way to the Christmas party, but when he realized that the mansion was at least half an hour away by car, accepting Victor’s offer had seemed more sensible.

There was a small queue of limos waiting to drop off their occupants, and Yuuri could see the guests alighting ahead as they inched slowly forward. To his surprise, one of them had contained a family of four with two young children. No sooner had the children jumped out of the limo and were straightening their formal wear that another four had come running out of the front doors to greet them. Yuuri smiled at this scene, only just realising that this was a much jollier event than he'd expected. He'd thought it would be more like the cocktail party, but with the added intimidation of the company’s old-timers. The children were followed quickly by their parents, who seemed to be bearing enough presents for twenty.

Yuuri reached into his suit pocket and lightly touched the present that he'd bought for Victor. It had been a mad rush yesterday. When he found out that the party was meant to be a joint celebration of Christmas and Victor’s birthday, he'd racked his brain trying to think of an appropriate present. But it seemed as though he knew nothing about Victor other than how much he loved his car and his dog. So he’d had to work with this limited information. But when he went online to buy the present he'd decided on, it seemed that it'd be impossible to get it delivered by Christmas morning. So Yuuri had dragged Phichit along to shop after shop, with Phichit distracting him with all sorts of suggestions, until they finally found what he was looking for.

Just when he thought he could take a breather, the delivery from Cialdini’s had arrived. Stacks of suits, shirts, trousers, sweaters, all needing to be unpacked and stored properly. True to his word, Celestino had pinned meticulous notes to each set of clothing with tips on how to mix and match them. Phichit was in absolute heaven as he ooh-ed and aah-ed at the wide selection of outfits. Saying that when Yuuri didn't need them anymore, he could send them Phichit’s way.

After he'd wrapped the present, he picked out the the black tie jacket for tomorrow to see if the present would fit into the inner pocket. Thankfully it did, because he wasn’t sure when he was supposed to give it to Victor. But tucking the present into the pocket also meant he found an oddly-shaped piece of fabric on the same hanger as the jacket. Then, it dawned on him that clip-on bow ties were not the norm. This was an actual bow tie, and _real_ bow ties needed actual tying. So he and Phichit had ended up on Youtube for an hour, trying to figure out how to tie one.

All worth it, he grinned. He was appropriately dressed with an immaculately tied bow tie, and a present for Victor. He had felt a little silly buying Victor a present, because the money had come from Victor in the first place, and he didn’t know whether...people like him were supposed to buy presents, or was the relationship supposed to be a one-way thing.

But it hadn't felt right turning up without a present. And Yuuri had decided to treat this like a normal relationship, not that he was very experienced with those either. The brunch with Victor’s friends and the time they spent together before that had made him a little less wary and a little more accepting. He was less afraid about contemplating the possibility that perhaps Victor wanted something more from this relationship. Not simply a convenient exchange, or a fling. Just... _something_ that made Yuuri a little less uncomfortable.

When he finally stepped out of the limo, his eyes were glazed over with wonder as he walked towards two large wooden doors that had been pushed open. He was already in awe of the building’s exterior, but the inside seemed like another world. The entrance hall alone had a vaulted ceiling, and a long red carpet that paved the way to another set of wooden doors.

An attendant helped him out of his overcoat and disappeared with it, making Yuuri panic for a moment over how to get it back later. Christmas carols hovered in the air, sung by merry choral voices. He could hear the buzz of spirited chatter and the gleeful laughter of children.

He lingered at the entrance hall, glancing around nervously as the other guests greeted each other cheerfully, and streamed past him through the wooden doors, which seemed to lead into a spacious salon. Before he could decide whether to follow the other guests, he heard joyful barking coming from within, and his pulse quickened when he saw a flash of platinum blond. Victor was exchanging a few words with the guests entering the salon, shaking their hands and politely trying to push past them to get to Yuuri. A large silver beige poodle padded dutifully behind him, and yapped excitedly when it saw Yuuri.

“Welcome, Yuuri. Merry Christmas,” Victor called out as he approached. The large poodle had rushed ahead of Victor and was circling happily around Yuuri, demanding his attention. Yuuri instantly forgot the overwhelming grandeur of the mansion, as he bent down eagerly to scratch its chin, “You must be Makkachin.”

“Yes, he is. He seems to like you,” Yuuri looked up to see Victor smiling down at him with his sparkling blue-green eyes, but his voice sounded more subdued than usual.

“Merry Christmas, Victor” Yuuri replied shyly, as he stood up to brush off the debris of fur that Makkachin had left on his suit. “This is a beautiful house,” he said.

Victor gave a small chuckle and said, “I sometimes forget what it must look like if you've not grown up in it. My family has been here since my grandfather’s days.” He moved to Yuuri’s side, placing a gentle hand on his arm and gesturing towards the doorway, “Shall we?” Yuuri nodded, leaning contentedly into Victor’s touch.

He thought fleetingly about mentioning the present as they walked towards the doors. But all thoughts were driven out of his head when they entered the grand salon, with its lofty ceiling overhead and the intricate gothic carvings on the stone panels that lined the gallery of the second floor. The floor was covered in an opulent tapestry carpet, and portraits of unknown figures hung on the walls. A roaring fire burned in an immense fireplace on the right, facing a row of pointed arches that led to a magnificent staircase covered in red carpet. At the end of the salon was a towering Christmas tree, glittering with delicate ornaments and graceful tinsel, a bright star stood proudly at its top, and its base overflowing with multicoloured presents of all shapes and sizes.

Yuuri could only gawp at the splendour of the salon and the sea of guests that seemed to spill over to several side rooms that branched out from it. They stopped in a quiet corner beside the fireplace, the warm glow of the fire a welcome presence in the chilly air. A waiter approached them with flutes of bubbly, and Yuuri took one warily, silently resolving not to have more than four drinks tonight. Victor had grabbed two, to Yuuri's surprise, and was leaning wearily against the wall, as he virtually inhaled the champagne.

Yuuri took the chance to glance around salon. He realised that the guests seemed to be older than those at the cocktail party. They seemed to carry themselves with an air of surety and ease, which was a stark contrast to the slight tinge of desperation running through the younger crowd at the cocktail party.

When Victor finished his first drink, he looked apologetically at Yuuri and said, “Sorry, it’s been a _very_ long day.”

Yuuri grinned and said, “Don’t mind me. I’ve done worse.” Victor gave a small laugh and seemed to relax slightly as he started on his second drink, but at a slower pace.

Yuuri was suddenly curious to know whether Victor had spent all of his birthdays like this, surrounded by people who seemed too old to be his friends, with the festivities appearing more stressful than enjoyable.

“Does your family hold this party every year?” he asked.

“Oh yes, every year,” Victor replied with a crooked grin, “Even the day I was born. They say my mother was rushed to the hospital in the maternity-edition of her favourite evening dress.” He paused and turned his gaze towards the guests, then, continued in a stiffer voice, “The guests are usually my father’s friends. His colleagues, partners, clients, and some of their families,” he gave Yuuri a tired smile, “I tend to celebrate my birthday on another day. With Chris and Mila, if they’re around.”

Yuuri felt a slight twinge in his heart at this revelation. His family had never failed to celebrate his birthdays with him, showering him with so much love and affection that it was slightly embarrassing, but always appreciated.

Even over these few years, when he’d been away, even when he’d been kicked out of his flat, they had celebrated over Skype. With his father laughing heartily and Mari insisting they should sing Happy Birthday, while Yuuri sat awkwardly before a small cupcake with an even smaller candle. Vicchan had been yipping excitedly the whole time and his mother had talked him through every single item in the care package she had mailed over.

He couldn’t imagine feeling the kind of loneliness that was etched on Victor’s face, certainly not on his birthday. Yuuri wanted to reach out and offer some kind of comfort. Maybe pat Victor on the shoulder or something, but that seemed a little out of place.

At that moment, Makkachin, who had been sitting patiently beside them, spotted a group of children gathering near the Christmas tree, and darted madly off to join them. Yuuri laughed when he saw Makkachin revelling in the attention that the children were showering on him, and Victor chuckled, “I think he loves Christmas more than any of us. The house isn’t usually this full.” He suddenly glanced upwards at the slanted skylights of the ceiling and said, “It actually sounds a bit echoey in here when we're not entertaining.” He lowered his gaze to smile at Yuuri, and explained, “I moved back here a few months ago. I’m still getting used to having this much space again.”

Yuuri was puzzling over Victor’ statement when they spotted Chris and Mila across the room. Chris flashed them a luscious smile and beckoned them over.

By happy accident, just as Victor reached out towards Yuuri’s arm, Yuuri had stepped in a little too close and Victor’s hand was now resting on the small of his back. Yuuri felt his heart thumping wildly at the more intimate contact. But Victor seemed unfazed, as he pulled Yuuri in a little closer and steered them across the room.  

“Hello, you two,” said Mila coyly as they approached, “And happy birthday, Victor. I got you a present this year because I can't go out drinking with you next week. It’s under the tree somewhere.”

Chris grinned and said with a wink, “It’s because she's got a date that night. A gorgeous one this time. Unlike the last one.”

Victor laughed in surprise, “Wow, Mila. That was quick. You certainly don't let the grass grow under your feet.”

Mila shrugged and replied, “Thanks to you, I've now got more time. I'm not going to waste it.”

Despite the simplicity of the exchange, Yuuri felt as though he was missing a key piece of information, like an inside joke he wasn't part of. He stood there in awkward silence, feeling a little excluded, wondering when and how he could contribute to the group conversation.

But Chris seemed to pick up on Yuuri's discomfort, and broke off to focus on Yuuri, leaving the other two to natter on about Mila’s date. “So, Yuuri, a little different from your normal Christmases, eh?”

Yuuri smiled at him gratefully and replied, “Very different. This is the first time I’ve seen a traditional Christmas celebration.”

“What’s the norm for you?” asked Chris casually.

“My family usually orders fried chicken from our local fast food place, and my mother makes strawberry sponge cake” replied Yuuri, mouth watering slightly at the memory of his mother’s baking.

“Fried chicken?” Chris raised an eyebrow in amusement, “ _Very_ interesting.”

“Yes,” said Yuuri, feeling a dusting of pink on his cheeks, “It’s a very weird Japanese custom. I don’t think anybody else in the world does it.”

Chris was about to reply when suddenly something behind Yuuri caught his eye, and he hurriedly turned to hiss at Victor, “Yakov Feltsman approaching from twelve o’clock, with Georgi the Righteous is tow.”

Victor whipped around immediately to check, and Yuuri turned slightly to look as well, trying not to seem too obvious. A stout and stately man wearing a stormy expression was marching towards them with the relentlessness of a tank, his growing bald spot glinting menacingly under the lamp lights. Judging by Georgi’s deference, he seemed to be one of the old warhorses in the company.

A look of apprehension passed over Victor’s face, as he leaned closer to Yuuri and said in a strained voice, “I’m afraid I’ll have to leave you in the hands of Mila and Chris, Yuuri. There’s...something I have to deal with.”

Concerned at Victor’s distress, Yuuri tried to smile reassuringly as he said, “Please don’t worry about me. I’ll be perfectly fine. Your work is more important.” And the last thing Yuuri wanted was to obstruct Victor’s work.

“I won’t be long,” Victor replied, and hurried to intercept Yakov and Georgi before they could reach Yuuri’s little group.

Chris looked thoughtfully at Victor’s retreating back and said, “I think he may need backup. You don’t mind, do you, Yuuri?”

Yuuri immediately shook his head, and Chris blew him a small kiss before catching up to Victor.

At the same time, Mila had hooked her arm through Yuuri’s and said, “Come on, Yuuri. We should get some food before the good stuff runs out.”

Yuuri cast one more glance at Victor before Mila pulled them out of sight. Yakov was trying to berate Victor while keeping his voice down, which made his face turn a worrying shade of puce. But Victor stood silently with his arms folded, his eyes steely and determined, his lips set in a firm line. It seemed clear that Yakov would not be getting whatever he wanted.

 

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There were two long tables in the middle of the dining room, groaning under the weight of food. What Yuuri had imagined a traditional Christmas dinner would include --a half-carved turkey, roast potatoes, thick gravy, and a flaming Christmas pudding -- was completely erased and replaced by a resplendent selection of intricate buffet-friendly food. There was turkey, but the slices were rolled into a small rose bud around some chestnut stuffing, topped with a small dollop of cranberry sauce. There were roast potatoes, but reincarnated as multilayered cubes of creamy dauphinoise topped with thin strips of anchovies. Everything was recognisably Christmas-related but always exquisitely crafted, with a twist on the traditional.

However, Mila had made a straight bee-line for one dish in particular that stood out like a sore thumb, and she exclaimed, “Oh my goodness, they actually freaking made it,” pointing to a haphazard pile of fried chicken that clearly looked like they didn't belong. “Victor made _such_ a big fuss yesterday with the kitchen staff about this. I suppose they finally relented. I had _no idea_ what it was about, but maybe he got tired of this finickity finger food too.” And she gleefully began picking out a few pieces.

Yuuri, on the other hand, could only stare at the small mountain of grease and batter in wonder. Slightly further down the table was a sponge cake topped with strawberries and cream. It gradually dawned on him that Victor had known about what people usually did in Japan and had made sure to include it in the buffet. A small lump began forming in his throat at this incredibly sweet and thoughtful gesture.

He followed Mila, picking out a few pieces of chicken and carefully lifting a small square of strawberry sponge cake, then filled his plate with the other goodies. His cheeks felt a little warm from Victor’s attentiveness and a deep sense of nostalgia for his family, as he and Mila huddled in a corner, away from prying eyes, to tuck messily into their food.

The following hours of the party were spent in a similar fashion. Yuuri was seamlessly passed back and forth between Mila and Chris, with Victor joining them whenever he could. It seemed as though every time Yuuri caught a glimpse of the silver blond hair in the crowd, Victor was being cornered by some variation of Yakov. All of the company’s veterans had looked agitated and angry, mumbling harshly in lowered tones, though none of them could quite achieve Yakov’s alarming colour.

Victor looked more exhausted every time he returned to Yuuri’s side, his hair became increasingly ruffled. He didn’t say much, content to let Mila or Chris chat about whatever that came to their minds and they had left him in peace, with his hand resting protectively on the small of Yuuri’s back. Yuuri eventually sensed that Victor seemed to take comfort from this contact, and he began leaning inwards as much as he dared to.

The highlight of the party came when the children were finally allowed to rush under the tree to hunt for their presents, and wrapping paper had begun to fly. The adults stood around them laughing at the spectacle, while the attendants and waiters tried to keep up with clearing the growing mess.

Chris was standing beside Yuuri and explained that only the children’s presents were placed under the tree, _thankfully_ , and that any presents that were given between adults were on the long trestle table behind, sorted by family and ready to be taken home.

Suddenly, Chris smacked his forehead and said, “Ah, now I know what I’d forgotten yesterday,” Yuuri looked at him in amusement and Chris smiled, “Mila and I wanted to get you a little something for the apartment. Since you’ve just moved in. And Victor probably took everything but the kitchen sink with him when he moved out.”

Yuuri’s eyes widened, his mind did a double take and he stuttered, “M-moved out?” Chris gave him a momentary look of confusion, and replied with a small frown, “Yes, from the Century, a few months ago. Didn’t he say it was his old apartment?”

Yuuri shook his head in a daze and he could hear his blood pounding in his ear.

All this time Yuuri had assumed that the apartment was for Victor’s…for people like Yuuri. It never once occurred to him that this could _possibly_ be Victor’s own apartment. An apartment he had recently moved out of, that he had kept in pristine condition, that he presumably wanted to move back to one day. Does this by implication also mean that Victor had _never_ offered an apartment to anyone else but Yuuri? Otherwise why would he give Yuuri his old apartment?

Yuuri felt the world spinning around him. _Why was Victor doing all this just for him?_

Chris was looking at Yuuri with concern, but he could only stare back in amazement, as his view of Victor’s intentions shifted. Did he dare hope that Victor wanted an actual relationship?

At that moment, Mila had dashed out of nowhere and was sniggering madly as she said, “Where’s Victor? I need to make him find his present under the tree.” Chris joined in the sniggering and they started searching the crowd.

Yuuri spotted him first, standing near the grand staircase. He was talking to a tall and severe-looking man who had silvery grey hair, sea-green eyes, and the same firm cheekbones as Victor. Yuuri presumed the man to be Victor’s father, Vladimir, and found it odd that he had not been introduced to the host at least once, which seemed to be the custom.

They both appeared equally calm as they talked, but Yuuri could see that both of their hands were clenched tightly into fists, and Victor’s was shaking slightly. And then Victor’s calm exterior had shattered suddenly, to be replaced by a mixture of rage and desperation, as though he was either going to punch his father or break down crying.

Yuuri had taken an involuntary step towards them, which alerted them to his presence. Vladimir gave Yuuri a look of distaste and said something inaudible to Victor. Whatever it was, it seemed to be last straw, because Victor turned his back on his father without replying and began walking towards Yuuri.

 

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They wandered through the guests in silence, Victor looking too drained to speak and Yuuri unsure of what to say. They eventually ended up outdoors on the second-floor terrace, overlooking the rolling acres of the estate, the darkness dotted only by flickering lamps. The sky was very clear overhead, with a smattering of stars, and a crisp coldness enveloped them. But even the relative peace of the cold night air didn’t seem to be a sufficient escape for Victor, as his eyes kept darting towards the small groups of smokers around them.

After a while, he leaned in closer to Yuuri and said softly, “Would you mind if we get out of here?”

Yuuri gave him a comforting smile and nodded. Victor’s tired face broke into an appreciative smile, as he dropped his hand to Yuuri’s side to take Yuuri’s hand in his, and they returned indoors.

Yuuri followed blindly as they walked down the corridor on the second floor, extremely aware of Victor’s long, slender fingers intertwined tightly with his. Victor pushed open an inconspicuous door to reveal a staircase that was purely functional, unlike the grand staircase in the hall. They walked up two flights of stairs to the third floor, and emerged into a deserted corridor.

At about the third or fourth door they passed, Victor stopped, cast a quick glance around them, and entered the room. Yuuri followed him in. And when the door had shut out the din of the merrymaking downstairs, Victor let out a sigh relief, and loosened his bow tie.

Yuuri stood at the doorway, taking in the room they had entered. The room itself seemed to be divided into two rooms. Directly ahead of them was a small sitting area, with two cosy armchairs facing a fireplace. Further down was a large mahogany work desk, littered with papers and files, standing just below a pair of large French windows. Beside the desk was a heavy bookcase, filled with rows and rows of books. A partition wall ran down the middle of the room, and a large bed was visible through the archway cut into the wall.

This is Victor’s bedroom, Yuuri realised. And he could feel the savage palpitations of his heart, as his mind suddenly made the leap that should’ve been so obvious when Victor had asked whether they could “get out of here”.

Yuuri blushed furiously. While he wasn’t exactly _averse_ to the idea of having sex with Victor, and he’d signed up knowing that this was probably going to be part of the deal, he wasn’t sure if he was ready for it, certainly not at this moment. He barely knew Victor. And he hadn’t had the time to do some ‘background research’ about what to expect.

He took a few deep breaths to suppress the rising panic, trying to think of a way to let Victor know somehow that he was uncomfortable with this. He cleared his throat nervously and blurted the first thing that came to mind, “Erm...where are we, Victor?”

Victor gave a chuckle. “Sorry, I should have said. This is my room. I didn’t know know where else we could hide and…” he trailed off when he seemed to notice the panic on Yuuri’s face. Then, his eyes widened, as though he too only just realized the implications of bringing Yuuri to his room, and hurried to add, “Oh no, no, I’m not suggesting anything! I just...I just needed to escape a little.”

Yuuri relaxed visibly at this, now feeling slightly embarrassed at the assumption he’d made, and began looking a little more carefully around the room to hide his awkwardness. He could feel Victor smiling warmly at him, and he stole a furtive glance.

“Should I give you a tour?” asked Victor brightly, and Yuuri nodded with a shy smile.

It did actually end up being a small tour. It was a massive room, complete with a walk-in closet, a king-sized bed, and a bathroom with both a bathtub and a shower, on top of the small sitting and working areas that Yuuri had seen.

Victor had said this had been his room since he was a child, and Yuuri couldn’t help grinning at the jarring difference from _his_ tiny childhood room at Yu-topia. As he was describing it, he caught a look of enthrallment on Victor’s face, as though this negligible bit of information was fascinating, and Yuuri realised that Victor had worn the same expression every time he shared something about his mundane life. Perhaps he could risk opening up a little more just to see it again.

They ended the tour at the mahogany work desk and Yuuri was perusing through Victor’s large collection of books, pointing excitedly at ones that they both liked. Then his eyes fell on a large, well-worn dog bed beside the bookcase and he suddenly remembered the present tucked away in his inner pocket.

He straightened up to face Victor, leaning slightly against the mahogany desk to steady himself. He fumbled in his pocket to retrieve the present, and gave a small cough before saying, “Uhm...I got you a birthday present. It’s something small and it’s not exactly for you, but I hope you like it.”

Victor’s eyes were sparkling with surprise as he stared at the gift, and he lifted his eyes to give Yuuri a look that asked, for me? Not knowing how to respond, Yuuri stood awkwardly, holding the gift with two hands.

“Thank you, Yuuri,” Victor finally said with a slight quiver in his voice, as he closed the distance between them and gently took the gift, “I didn’t expect you to…” and his voice trailed off as he caressed the smooth wrapping paper.

Yuuri coughed nervously again, “I know it’s a bit silly, since-”

“No, not at all,” Victor cut in hurriedly, “Should I open it now?”

Yuuri gave a small nod and Victor tore off the wrapping paper eagerly to reveal a small black box. He lifted the lid to find an elegant, burgundy leather dog collar with a small gold buckle, and a simple tag that had just enough space to engrave Makkachin's details.

Yuuri waited nervously for Victor’s reaction, then felt his heart lift when Victor broke into a dazzling smile and looked at the gift adoringly as though it was the best thing he'd seen all day.

“Makkachin will _love_ this,” said Victor in a glowing tone, his face alight with excitement. “This is perfect, Yuuri. Thank you.”

Yuuri blushed a little at Victor’s obvious delight over the gift, and gave a small smile of relief as Victor gushed about how the red would bring out Makkachin’s fur colour, and that he had the _perfect_ lead to match the collar.

Now that the immediate worry had been removed, Yuuri was suddenly very aware of how closely Victor was standing in front of him. So close that he could see Victor’s black eyelashes under his platinum hair. So close that he caught a whiff of Victor’s cologne, and another even more intoxicating fragrance underneath it.

He found himself staring at Victor’s animated lips, which were slender and pinkish, still curved upwards in affection. Then he realised that Victor had stopped speaking and was fixing an intense gaze on him. Yuuri tilted his head slightly until their eyes met. He saw a slight hesitation pass over Victor’s face, and before he could react, Victor had leaned forwards to capture Yuuri’s lips with his own.

In that instant, Yuuri felt his body burn hot and cold at the same time, and there was a roaring in his ears, as though the world was falling away in a cascade, until he was left with nothing but Victor’s warm and soft lips pressed tenderly against his own. All he could breathe in was Victor’s heady scent, and all he could feel was the heat radiating from Victor’s body.

When Victor finally started to pull away, Yuuri was left breathless but addicted. His body reacted on instinct as he reached up to curl his hand around the back of Victor’s neck and pulled him back until their lips touched again. This time a little less cautious, a little more impatient. Victor lifted his hand to cradle the side of Yuuri’s face, his thumb gently caressing Yuuri’s cheeks and his fingers gripping the side of Yuuri’s neck. Yuuri pulled Victor in closer and deepened their kiss, until he could feel the rise and fall of Victor’s chest on his own, and Victor reciprocated by leaning in closer until Yuuri was resting his full weight against the mahogany desk.

When they eventually surfaced for air, Victor rested his forehead lightly against Yuuri’s, as they tried to regain their breath, both wearing a dazed smile on their faces, as the world slowly came back into focus around them.

As though on cue, they heard Makkachin’s enthusiastic barking on the other side of the door, and Victor chuckled softly, with his forehead still resting lightly against Yuuri’s, “I think Makkachin senses he has a new present. I better let him in.” Yuuri gave a small laugh, as Victor reluctantly pulled away to open the door, while he remained leaning on the desk, not entirely sure if his shaky legs could bear his full weight just yet.

He could hear Victor chatting cheerfully to someone at the door. It seemed that the person had come looking for Victor and had brought Makkachin along.

Yuuri tried to climb down from the rush of endorphins and adrenaline. Everything still felt a little surreal, and his limbs were still quivering slightly. It wasn’t that he hadn’t kissed anyone before. But his previous encounters had been nothing like this. The intensity had been breathtaking, and left him reaching out for more. He felt a surge of anticipation in his heart, because it felt as though Victor had reached back with the same desperation and longing.

When his legs felt functional again, he absent-mindedly tried to push himself away from the desk, and his left hand accidentally brushed a small stack of papers off the desk, sending them scattering over the floor. He screamed silently at himself for being such a klutz and prayed that Victor hadn’t arranged his paperwork in a specific order.

As he hurriedly gathered the scattered papers and tried to straighten them on the desk, a stiff A5 piece of cream-colored card had fallen out. He picked it up and was about to replace it among the papers, when the fancy cursive writing on it caught his eye, and his mind began reading it before he could put it away to protect Victor’s privacy.

Then, his mind did a double take, and he read it again.

 

_Mr. and Mrs. Nikita Babicheva request_   
_the pleasure of your company_   
_at a dinner reception to celebrate_ _  
_ the engagement of their daughter

_Mila Babicheva_

_to_

_Mr. Victor Nikiforov_

_On Saturday the Twenty-Eighth of January_ _  
_ _Two Thousand and Seventeen_

 

The headiness from the previous moment vanished immediately. What was this? He read it a third time, and still he couldn’t untangle the growing ball of confusion in his mind. Engagement _?_ His mind began racing with a thousand questions, and he could feel a loud ringing in his ears.

But Mila had a date next week. And Victor. Wasn’t Victor going out with Yuuri? Wasn’t the 28th a month away? Did they only have one month left? But, their relationship had seemed much more permanent than that. Didn't Darlene send him the schedule for the next three months? Did she make a mistake? But one month wasn’t enough. They barely knew each other. Their relationship had only just started. Were they supposed to continue their relationship even after the engagement? That was _absurd_.

Then, a wave of nausea hit him, and the realization dawned that theirs wasn’t really a relationship. Whatever he had deluded himself into thinking, this wasn’t a real relationship. And one month was more than enough for this.

Victor, for whatever reason, will soon be engaged to Mila, and this was probably his last chance to have some fun. And Yuuri had just come along at the right time. Yuuri with his desperate circumstances, so willing to give anything to free himself from his own nightmare. He tried to quell the sickening feeling in his stomach.

He had misinterpreted all of Victor’s kind gestures as signals that Victor wanted to build something deeper, something that went beyond one month. When in reality Victor was only being considerate, what did he stand to lose by being nice after all? And Victor clearly only wanted someone who could let him indulge in his sugar daddy fetishes one last time. An arm candy to show off at parties, so he wouldn’t have to turn up alone, with the added bonus of physical intimacy that was bound to happen in these arrangements. A quid pro quo.

How could he have been so very, very stupid to think...

He heard Victor closing the door as he talked to Makkachin in a bright voice, and Yuuri hurriedly slipped the card into the pile of papers.

Victor was smiling radiantly as he walked towards Yuuri, with Makkachin bounding excitedly beside him.

Yuuri couldn’t bring himself to return Victor’s smile, not even when he saw that Victor’s smile had begun to descend into a look of worry.

He tried to calm the tangle of emotions in chest. He had to say something. Should he mention the invitation? No, he couldn’t deal with this right now. He didn’t know how Victor would react, he didn’t even know how he himself would react, and he didn’t want to say something that may make things too awkward between them. It was Yuuri’s fault after all for misunderstanding the whole thing, and Victor shouldn’t need to deal with it.

He eventually forced a small smile and said, “I think I should go now.”

Victor looked at him in increasing confusion and concern, but when Yuuri offered no further explanation, he said, “Yes, of course, Yuuri. Shall I send for a limo?”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll call a cab,” replied Yuuri, his voice sounding more hurried than he’d intended. But he just wanted to get out of here as soon as possible, and he couldn’t bear the thought of being driven around like a weak and useless person who couldn’t even make his own way home.

When Victor only nodded in reply, Yuuri started to walk towards the door, but stopped again when Victor suddenly reached out to touch his arm lightly. Yuuri had nearly shaken it off on impulse, but couldn’t when he saw that Victor’s expression was now bordering on desperation, “Will I see you tomorrow, Yuuri?” asked Victor.

He had forgotten about the Boxing Day lunch tomorrow.

He couldn’t seem to come up with an excuse to say no, but it seemed his throat wasn’t allowing him to say yes, either. He nod mutely, and when Victor removed his hand, Yuuri walked promptly towards the door, fighting to ignore Makkachin’s ernest barking and Victor’s look of desperate confusion.

How could he have been so stupid to hope this was anything more.

 

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The chilly air was clinging to his skin as he jogged along the quiet paths of the park, the bare trees and heavy mist giving it an ethereal, almost an eerie feeling. Yuuri loved running in Central Park early in the morning. Despite being a natural night owl, his years at Juilliard had trained him to accept, and then to cherish waking up at ungodly hours, and he eventually began a routine of fitting in a run before his classes. The deserted paths gave him the freedom and space to think. And right now, he needed the space to think. Mostly about Victor.

The Boxing Day lunch two days ago had been a short and unbearable affair. The event itself had been pleasant enough. It turned out to be a small-ish party for Victor’s team , who were mainly young adults in their twenties and thirties. Chris had said cheekily that everyone was either here for the food to nurse their hangovers from Christmas, or to escape from yet another family gathering.

Victor had seemed much more in command during the lunch. Making sure he talked to every team member individually, and seeming to know even the minutest details of both their personal and working lives. Yuuri had followed him dutifully around, but found that he could not relax or ease into the conversations.

He had spent the previous night mulling over the invitation, about what it meant and what he was to Victor. Whatever it was, it was something a little worse than a sugar baby, and he’d not even fully accepted _that_. When Victor had slipped his hand to the small of Yuuri’s back, Yuuri had stiffened involuntarily, and then had stepped away when they began to move.

Victor kept his distance after that. And Yuuri could see the puzzlement and hurt underneath the veil of calm confidence. He wanted to reach out and sweep away Victor’s distress, but the aching knot in his chest had wound tighter as the lunch progressed, and he had left as soon as he was able to.

Then, Victor had messaged him the next evening, asking at the last minute whether Yuuri wanted to join him and Chris for drinks at a bar nearby, and possibly moving on to a club later, for a proper birthday celebration.

Yuuri had replied that he couldn’t, and then had turned off his phone, despite the vivid memory of how lonely Victor had seemed at the Christmas party for a fleeting moment. He felt a surge of guilt. He knew his irrationality was hurting Victor, in some way at least. It was never nice to be rejected by anyone, especially if the rejection was unexplained. But he wanted to stop ruminating over the entire mess. So, he had left his phone switched off the entire night, and still hadn’t turned it back on.

His thoughts returned to the light thudding of his feet hitting the path, the dripping sweat down the side of his face, and the nip of the cold air he inhaled. He toyed with the idea of ending this arrangement first before Victor did. Perhaps he could increase the hours of administrative work he did on campus to support himself. But he knew that there was simply no time for extra jobs, not if he wanted to keep his dancing up to the high standards of the school. He didn’t know why he was pushing Victor away like this. It was irrational, and he knew it.

He picked up his pace to sprint the last 200 metres or so, then slowed to a brisk walk and made his way back to the apartment. The doorman, Al, greeted him cheerfully as he entered the building, and Yuuri stopped to chat a little with him about how he spent Christmas.

When they finally parted, Yuuri was still grinning at the funny story about Al meeting his girlfriend’s parents over Christmas dinner as he rode the elevator to the eleventh floor. Then, his heart stopped when the doors opened.

Victor was sitting on the steps leading to the door of his apartment, with his head bowed in tiredness.

Yuuri had been completely unprepared for this, and his body froze up immediately, rooting him to the entrance of the elevator. He stared in speechless silence as Victor looked up after hearing the elevator doors open. He stood up abruptly when he saw Yuuri, and carefully closed the distance between them, as if afraid that Yuuri might close the elevator doors again.

He stopped about two feet away, his eyes lacking their usual sparkle, and said in a weary tone, “I think we may need to talk, Yuuri.”

 

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Yuuri had let them into the apartment in silence, his voice had failed him and he stared blankly at Victor.

Eventually, Victor cleared his throat in embarrassment and suggested that perhaps Yuuri would feel more comfortable talking after having a shower. Yuuri had nodded and hurried off with a mumbled, “Please make yourself at home.” Then, had spent the entire shower cringing about asking Victor to make himself at home, _in Victor's own apartment_.

He returned to the living room when he was presentable again, and found Victor leaning against the work desk beside the window, with his khaki trench coat draped over the swivel chair. Yuuri walked over to sit on the blue couch in the middle of the room, wanting to keep a certain distance, and waited for Victor to speak.

“I think,” Victor began slowly, “You may have seen the invitation for the engagement party next month.”

Yuuri felt the flush of red on his cheeks, and avoided Victor’s gaze. “I have,” he replied softly, “And I’m sorry about that. I shouldn’t have read it. But it fell out when I accidentally swept the papers off your desk.”

Victor looked as if his fears had been confirmed, and he said in subdued tone, “No. The fault was mine. I should have told you everything earlier.” Yuuri’s heart fell, and he realised that he had been holding onto the hope that this was all a misunderstanding, or a joke.

Victor began explaining about his and Mila’s predicament. Their family’s expectations. The company’s expectations. And the entire Russian project that would make or break the Nikiforov business, and how Victor couldn’t be responsible for destroying the life’s work of his grandfather and his father.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into our mess. And for not being honest with you at the start,” said Victor, sounding full of regret. “We were supposed to announce the engagement at the Christmas party but I’ve been allowed to postpone it by another three months.”

“Three months?” Yuuri blurted out, and he lifted his eyes to fix a searching look at Victor.

“Yes,” he replied, “The invitation you saw was a sample of the final version. They were supposed to be sent out after the announcement at the party. We will now announce it in three months instead, on the first of April, and the engagement party will be on the sixth of May.” He paused, and swallowed nervously, looking as though he was sickened by what he was going to say next. “I will need to stop appearing in public with anyone other than Mila two months from now, at the start of March.”

But Yuuri noticed that Victor still hadn’t mentioned at which point their arrangement would end, and so he asked quietly, “What happens after the engagement?”

Victor gave him a worried lookand seemed reluctant to elaborate any further, but eventually said, “Both Mila and I do not know what kind of relationship we can offer to anyone under these circumstances. I do not know what will happen next." He paused, frowning slightly, "I know I’ve said previously that both you and I can decide to end things whenever we want. I…” he hesitated, “I think I will leave this decision to you.”

Yuuri’s eyes widened in surprise. To him?

“You don’t have to make a decision now. For the time being, if you still want to carry on with this arrangement, even after knowing everything, then I will see you tomorrow evening at the Metropolitan Club. If I do not see you before the event starts, then I will ask Darlene to... sort things out.”  

A million questions exploded in Yuuri’s mind, as Victor draped his trench coat over his arm and started walking towards the door. He seemed to be avoiding Yuuri’s bewildered gaze, but stopped before fully closing the door and said in a soft voice, “And pIease don't worry about your future. I will not leave you stranded.”

Then, the door was gently pulled shut, leaving Yuuri alone in the greyish light of dawn.

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All comments welcome!!  
> In case anyone's interested, here's a [link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IgqmyimVlfU) to the Christmas carols that I was listening to for the party..... And, yes, listening to Christmas carols in May is very odd.


	5. Falling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!! Thanks for sticking with the story so far.... Hope you like this chapter :D  
> As usual, beta'd by my wonderful sister (who's very ill this week x_X)

 

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The gentle click of the closing door was still echoing in his ears. Even when his feet had taken him out of the apartment, with his practice clothes in a bag, and down the oddly quiet streets. When he was swiping his ID card to reserve one of the practice rooms, his mind hadn’t moved on to processing his emotions. Instead, it was still mesmerized by Victor’s last few words before he left. _It was his decision. And he would not be left stranded._

Things were certainly a lot more complicated than he’d anticipated.

In the privacy of the practice room, he began to warm up at the barre as he tried to lose himself in the mystical calm of Satie's[1]. This was his escape, where nothing mattered but the shadowy serenity of the notes, and the series of careful pliés, tendus and dégagés. It would be a good buffer for the surge of negative emotions that he was sure would come.

But it didn’t. Not even when he’d finished his barre work and moved on to the centre. It was odd for him to remain so calm, especially with the bundle of chaos that had been heaved onto his lap. Maybe he was still in shock.

But he knew that his mind always seemed to arrive at a subconscious answer before him, so instead of focusing on Victor’s offer, he began thinking about his bizarre _lack_ of panic and/or repulsion. Was it a sign? And his mind led him to the previous times he had tried to escape.

He followed the music in a slow sequence of arabesques and attitudes, which gradually led to a series of pirouettes and jumps. Then, he eventually turned to focus on moves that were in the Firebird pas de deux[2]

Every time he had pushed Victor away, it was because he felt as though what Victor was offering was not real, almost like a cheap plastic toy. Like when Victor had offered him a purely business-like sugar relationship. Or when he thought he was a bit of fun on the side before Victor settled down with Mila. Or when Victor seemed to be parading him around like a _Hina Matsuri_ doll.

It’d felt as though his body was incapable of pretence, and the nausea was like a curse that made sure he couldn’t act out what he didn’t believe in.

He did a final jump and concluded his warm up. Now, he had to stop thinking about Victor and focus on this ballet piece that had plagued his entire semester. He absolutely needed to come to terms with the character before classes began. So, he shook his head to clear his mind and began to run through the story.

Let’s see, in the first bit, the firebird is minding its own business in the garden. He could do that. But when he began his first series of jumps and spins, his mind wandered back to the day when he realized Victor had swept away all of his problems, and the lightness that he’d felt had brought him much closer to the firebird than he’d ever been. He began channelling that carefree feeling into his moves and felt himself relaxing into the role. He was a magical bird with all the freedom in the world to do anything he wanted.

Then, came the struggle with Prince Ivan. The panic was easy to express, with its accompanying fear and desperation. He had felt it first-hand, when his situation had gotten worse and worse, until he was left out on the pavement.

But when he tried to retrieve the memory of his lowest point, he found that his thoughts kept returning to the invitation he’d found in Victor’s room, the feeling as though he was choking for air, when he thought he’d stumbled into an impossibly sordid situation, and he’d thought the worst of Victor as he struggled against his panic to break free.

When Prince Ivan realises his mistake, he immediately makes amends, and they dance a short duet, as he tries to gain its trust.

All Yuuri could think of for this part was Victor’s worn-out face and his tone of resignation when he revealed everything. Victor had allowed Yuuri to peer fully beyond his mask of confidence, when until that point he’d only caught a few glimpses. Victor had exposed his troubles, his insecurities, and the wounded look of a lost child that made Yuuri desperately sad.

Was this why Yuuri no longer felt the need to run away? Because he now knows the truth beyond the pretence. What’s more, instead of forcing him to accept the situation, Victor had given him the power to choose, and the space to decide, removing even the need to worry about his future.

And now the firebird offers Prince Ivan a feather, which allows him to summon it in his time of need, as he journeyed through the villain’s magical realm.

Yuuri stopped before the last scene. He knew what Victor wanted. A chance at a relationship under these impossible circumstances. Victor wanted to know if Yuuri was willing to give it a shot, and he wanted a genuine decision from Yuuri, untainted by worries about money or his future.

Should he walk away and soldier on as he did before? Yuuri knew he couldn’t possibly accept Victor’s offer to continue supporting him if they broke it off now, he would have to make do somehow.

Or could he throw himself into this mess?

He began his cool down and stretches.  He didn't know the answer. The glimpses he had caught of Victor’s well-guarded inner self had hinted at the possibility of something good. But it was surrounded by a legion of bad, complications that would only lead to heartbreak.

Even so, should he offer Victor the feather?

 

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He spent the rest of the day churning the options over and over in his mind.

When Phichit came over for dinner that evening, he seemed to notice Yuuri’s pensive mood, but said nothing about it. He even noticed that talking about Yuri’s firebird piece caused him to wince slightly, and so avoided that topic too. Yuuri was hesitant to admit that it was because this piece, to his bewilderment, had become completely entangled with Victor.

Instead, they chatted about the other major performance of the year, which was considerably more fun. The Senior Year Production was a performance that belonged completely to the seniors, from the choreography to the music, and even the fund-raising. Everything, except the technical aspects, like lighting and sound, which were handled by the juniors in Phichit’s year.

In true pigheaded ambition, Yuuri had opted to be one of seven choreographers in his year, which had pushed his schedule even closer to its bursting point. He, Leo and Marianne had put together a three-part piece intending to explore the growth and struggles of a dancer in Juilliard.

Leo had taken on the first part, which he’d called Innocence, where the dancer was still a raw talent, oblivious to the storms of the outside world. Boy were they innocent when they first started, he thought, Leo had captured it well. Marianne, on the other hand, had decided to name the second part Deconstruction. Enough said, he thought grimly, Juilliard had stripped each and every one of them down to bare bones, and had built them up again from ground zero. The process was not pretty.

Then, there was his part. He’d asked a music student to compose the music for it and he had an outline of the choreography, but he still wasn’t sure about what to call his segment. The Pinnacle? Rising from the ashes? Emergence? Though he couldn’t quite shake the nagging feeling that his indecisiveness might stem from the music itself, which couldn’t quite capture what Yuuri wanted to express.

“So, do you have a more solid idea about what you want the lighting to be?” asked Phichit, who was part of the team handling the technical aspects of Yuuri’s segment, which meant Yuuri had the bonus of working closely with Phichit some days.

“Not really,” he sighed, “I just can’t quite picture the scene fully yet. I’m beginning to think maybe it’s the music.”

Phichit looked thoughtful for a moment and said slowly, “Hmm… you know, I think you might be right.”

Yuuri flopped his head back onto the back of the couch to stare at the ceiling, “Yeah…” he finally admitted, “It’s...I don’t know...not triumphant enough, or maybe not passionate enough I guess?”

“Yeah, I get what you mean,” replied Phichit, “It needs a certain something. An oomph.”

After staring at the ceiling a little longer, Yuuri asked in a worried tone, “Do you think Cecelia would mind changing the track?”

Phichit laugh merrily and said with a reassuring smile, “I’m pretty sure she’s as big a perfectionist as you are, so you should definitely let her know if it’s not quite right.”

Yuuri smiled warmly back, and he resolved to ask Cecilia that night, his heart feeling much lighter about the choreography. Trust Phichit to know exactly how to allay his fears.

Maybe Phichit would know what to do about Victor too, he thought, as he shuffled in his seat and his eyebrows were pinched slightly in the middle as he tried to find the words.

“So, about Victor”, said Phichit before Yuuri could begin, which nearly made him laugh. Phichit knew him too well.

“Yes, about Victor,” Yuuri cleared his throat slightly.

“How complicated are things?” asked Phichit mildly.

Yuuri’s jaw dropped, “How did you know?”

“I had a chat with Seung Gil a few days ago. Just to find out a few things about this lifestyle. And it certainly seems to involve a lot of complications. Do you want to know his version?”

Yuuri nodded mutely.

“He keeps a few sugar daddies at once, and none of them provide him with an allowance or, obviously, an apartment. And they can only give him gifts or pay for stuff when he _allows_ it. He said he mainly gets his money by selling the branded gifts he gets online. He also said he makes sure they don’t get too attached to him. Or they will get _punished_ ? But he didn’t say much about that. In any case, it seems like he certainly doesn’t get too attached to them. I’m beginning to think he caters to a very _specific_ kind of sugar daddy.”

Yuuri hadn’t blinked since Phichit began imparting this information, and his jaw remained in the down position. That certainly seemed very complicated.

“So, the lesson I learnt was that Seung Gil had taken great pains to make sure he was emotionally detached from his sugar daddies,” he gave Yuuri an intense look, “But you’re getting attached, aren’t you, Yuuri?”

Yuuri glanced down at his feet, and replied in a low tone, “Yes I am.”

He wanted to tell Phichit everything, but he couldn’t because he couldn’t reveal Victor’s secrets just to resolve his own issues, especially when they hadn’t had the chance to discuss it yet.  

He finally settled on saying, “I don’t think it would end well for either of us if I continue this. I think Victor’s great, and I want to accept what he’s offering. But he comes with a lot of complications. And his circumstances will probably end things for us eventually. So the more attached I get, the more painful it will be at the end.” He sighed heavily and waited for a response, fully expecting Phichit to say, cut and run as fast as you can!

Phichit considered the problem a while, and said slowly, “Then…there’s actually only one question left I guess,” he gave Yuuri a serious look, “Are you willing to pay the price of heartbreak in exchange for the time you’ll spend together?”

And suddenly, the complications, the family problems, his repulsion, his fears, the pros, the cons all melted away. It was that simple.

How deeply was he willing to be hurt for Victor?

 

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He was so very, very, very late.

The Metropolitan Club was only 15 minutes by foot, and he was trying to walk as briskly as he could without breaking out into a sweat. Where had the time gone!

A quick walk around the park had turned into a prolonged session of agonized flip-flopping between the two choices, his mind constantly running through Phichit’s words from last night. By the time he got back, he was left with less than half an hour until the event began. The ensuing panic seemed to have made the decision for him, because he rushed to get ready and was out the door again before his mind realised that he had made a decision. At least for now.

About halfway there, he began rummaging around his pockets for his phone. Victor had said to meet him at the club before the event started, and he needed to let Victor know that he would be about five to ten minutes late.

A chill ran through him when he realised all his pockets were empty, and he didn’t have his phone with him. Damn. Damn. Damn. Maybe Victor would wait a little longer at the entrance? And he picked up his pace.

When he arrived at the gates on 60th Street, a valet or concierge person was blocking the entrance. But Victor was nowhere to be seen.

What should he do? Walk back and get his phone? But he’ll be much too late for the event. No, he had to do this. At least he knew Victor’s name this time. So, he took a few calming breaths and approached the valet, trying to sound as confident as he could, “Hi, I’m here for the whisky tasting? I’m with Mr. Victor Nikiforov.”

The valet looked at him and replied, “Mr. Nikiforov was here a little while ago.” He looked up at the beads of sweat on Yuuri’s forehead and frowned suspiciously, “But..he didn’t say he was expecting anyone.” Yuuri’s heart sank. He had been hoping that maybe Victor would’ve mentioned something to somebody at the gate. He desperately needed to get in. He couldn’t leave Victor thinking that Yuuri had rejected him.

Then, a thought struck him. Since the valet knew Victor by name, perhaps he was important enough that they would at least _check_ whether he was expecting a guest. So, Yuuri injected a little more annoyance into his voice, and said, “I’m _very_ sure he is expecting me. If you could just ask someone to check with him.”

The valet seemed torn between wanting the pleasure of shooing Yuuri away, and not wanting to lose his job by upsetting an important club member. In the end, he mumbled into his walkie talkie, and a staff member dressed like a waiter came out to the gate. At least he was going up the ranks of the staff member.

The waiter led him into the stately stone building and ushered him up a graceful staircase to the second floor, where he quietly pushed opened a heavy wooden door. Yuuri followed him in, and they entered an elegant library that smelled of oak and leather. Tall shelves of books lined the walls, and there was a fireplace at the other end of the room, sheltering a fire that filled the air with a warm glow and merry crackle.

Towards the entrance, an eager-looking man in a crisp suit was hovering with anticipation over a table that held a sea of small rounded tumblers and six bottles obscured by black velvet bags. Yuuri presumed that he was the whisky expert who would be leading the blind tasting today.

Beyond him was a collection of small and large tables, surrounded by different numbers and sizes of leather armchairs. The tables held crackers and pitchers of water, while the armchairs held small groups of serious-looking whisky enthusiasts.

The waiter gestured for Yuuri to wait, and gently weaved his way around the leather armchairs towards a quiet corner of the library. Yuuri followed the path he took, until he spotted Victor, who was sitting alone in the corner, his head propped carelessly in his hand, his silver hair glowing a deep bronze near the fire as it fell across his face. He seemed to be lost in his thought, ignoring the low hum of conversation around him, and looking dejected.

Yuuri felt a pang of guilt, mixed with a degree of wonder. He hadn’t meant to cause pain, and he couldn’t believe he had caused Victor to feel this much of it.

The waiter leaned down to whisper in Victor’s ear, which made him look up in surprise. When he spotted Yuuri standing across the library, he had half leapt out of his armchair before he could stop himself. A look of absolute relief flooded his face, and his chest was heaving slightly as he drew in long deep breaths. Yuuri could see that he was gripping the side of the armchair for support, and his knuckles had begun to turn white.

Without waiting for a sign from the waiter, Yuuri began to walk briskly towards Victor, their eyes fixed on each other. As Yuuri got closer, he could see the slight glimmer in Victor’s eyes, as he gave the waiter a distracted nod, not even acknowledging him when he retreated.

When Yuuri reached Victor, he walked around the small table between them to sit in the leather armchair beside him. Victor’s intense gaze had remained unbroken, looking as if he couldn’t believe Yuuri was really here, laced with a slight doubt of whether Yuuri would stay and why he was here.

When Yuuri was seated, Victor said in a soft voice, “When you didn’t show up, I thought…” and trailed off, as he gave Yuuri a sad smile.

Yuuri looked away guiltily, only to see the proximity of their hands, resting on the armchairs, their fingertips nearly touching. He didn’t know what else he could do to reassure Victor that he truly was here, and he was here because he wanted to. He reached out and rested his fingertips lightly on Victor’s. “I’m sorry,” he said earnestly, “I lost track of time, and I forgot my phone when I left, which meant I couldn’t let you know I was late.”

Victor didn’t reply, instead he shifted his hand to interlace his fingers with Yuuri’s, enclosing Yuuri’s smaller hand in a tight, desperate grip, that seemed to convey the turmoil of emotions he was feeling.

They remained that way, fingers intertwined, seated in a hidden corner of the room, even when the whisky tasting began, and the whisky expert had signalled the waiters to distribute the first whisky.

A waiter approached them with two drachms of whisky in small tumblers that were rounded at the bottom and narrowed at the top. Then, the whisky expert said in a cheerful voice, “All right gentlemen, you know what to do: color, nose, palate and finish. Attempt to guess the distillery if you can. I will be circulating among you for now, and we will reconvene.”

With their hands still intertwined, Yuuri reached hesitantly for the small glass of whisky. He peeked at Victor, who was idly inspecting the whisky against the dim light of the room, then he swilled it around and took a deep sniff from the narrowed top of the glass. Yuuri glanced around the room and saw that some people were scribbling notes after sniffing, and others were chatting about the smell.

Yuuri decided to copy Victor, and lifted the glass to his nose. But at his first breath, the fumes of alcohol wafted into his nose and made his eyes water. He tried to blink his tears away, and stop his face from grimacing. Why would anyone like this? he thought with disgust. But when he saw that Victor had taken a sip and was rolling the golden liquid on his tongue like a tasty snack, he decided to give it a go.

He realised too late that the sip he had taken was much too big, and before he could hide his reaction, his face was contorted into an ugly grimace, his throat felt like it was on fire and he began making weird choking noises. Victor had let out a laugh of surprise at his distress, and hurriedly reached over to pour him a glass of water, trying to reassure Yuuri that it was all perfectly fine, but failing to contain his laughter.

Their antics evidently caught the eye of the whisky expert, and he had zoned in on them with a manic glint in his eye. Yuuri tried to blend into the armchair but it was clearly too late. The whisky expert began his careful mentoring of a whisky novice, saying things like, “So, when you take your first sip, just roll it around your tongue and let it burn. Just let it burn. Go on.” Yuuri had replied with a disbelieving, “Eh?” But eventually decided to play along, as he sipped the fiery liquid and reluctantly coated his tongue with it, trying not to let his eyes water too much.

“Now, for the second sip,” Second sip? Yuuri looked at him in dismay, “You should be able to taste a few more flavours, just taste them and try not to think too hard about what they just yet.” Yuuri doubted he would be able to taste anything, he tastebuds felt like they had died. He cast a quick glance at Victor, and was pleasantly surprised to find that he had huge grin of amusement on his face.

Yuuri smiled back, a second sip was probably worth it. So, he took a second sip and his eyebrows lifted in amazement when he began sensing subtle flavours that had previously been overwhelmed by the harsh alcohol. The whisky expert straightened up with a smile of satisfaction over a job well done, and promised he would be back later.  When he returned to the top of the room, the tasting began moving forward, as he started asking for descriptions of the flavors and guesses for the distillery.

In their quiet corner, Victor had grinned again and asked Yuuri what he thought about his first whisky. It was the first question that began a stream of comfortable, light-hearted small talk about the flavours, the whisky expert, the club and anything light that came to mind.

It was interrupted only by other members of the club stopping by in between whiskies to have a chat with Victor about business-related things, or by the whisky expert occasionally dropping in to check on his budding whisky enthusiast. But Victor never left their table, and his smile never seemed to disappear.

“Alright gentlemen, I’m afraid no one has gotten the last whisky correct. It was the Lagavulin Pedro Ximenez Distillers Edition. Now, I know it’s a little low on the price range, but as you’ve tasted for yourselves, it’s an excellent addition to your collection.”

When the whisky expert rounded up the tasting session, there was a general rumble of movement, as the group began breaking up to leave, and waiters were dispatched to collect the scattered glasses. But Victor showed no sign of leaving, and looked too comfortable to move.

“How much is low?” Yuuri asked curiously.

Victor smiled affectionately at him, “Eighty, ninety a bottle. It’s one of my favorites though. I always have a bottle in.”

Ninety dollars a bottle. Yuuri’s jaw dropped open in shock, which made Victor blush slightly.

“I know. It sometimes seems ridiculous that I can afford to buy something like that when…”

Yuuri hurriedly interrupted him, “No, no. Please don’t think that. There’s no harm in enjoying something good.” And Victor had given him a warm smile.

They stayed a while longer, both seemed reluctant to break the comfortable atmosphere that had enveloped them, probably aided by the warm haze of six whiskies and the glowing fire. But they were forced to leave when the waiters began shooting them dirty looks.

Yuuri had expected Victor’s car to be waiting for him when they exited the premises, but Victor had explained that his driver would pick him up at the Century in about half an hour. Yuuri smiled shyly at the implications, his heart skipping a beat at the thought that Victor was actually offering to walk him home.

They strolled slowly along the low stone walls surrounding the borders of Central Park towards the apartment, hearing the wind rustling in the trees, and the traffic from the streets, the night sky aglow with city lights and a-bustle with activity.

When they pushed opened the metallic double doors of the apartment building, Yuuri grinned broadly when he saw that Al the doorman was sat in his usual spot, but with his head propped against the wall and his mouth opened, as his light snores echoed in the empty lobby.

“Oh Al,” laughed Victor, shaking his head in amusement at the sight, “Brilliant mind, but terrible doorman.”

“We shouldn’t wake him,” Yuuri chuckled in reply, “I made that mistake once”, and he lifted his head to smile at Victor. But his breath was caught in his throat when he saw that Victor had been gazing tenderly at him, and seemed to be affected by their close proximity.

Yuuri felt a warm burst of excitement when Victor cupped his chin lightly with three fingers, and planted a soft kiss on his lips. And he closed his eyes to savour the sweet and private moment that they shared.

They broke apart reluctantly at the sound of a car pulling up to the building.

Victor gave him a wistful smile and said, “That's my ride.” To which, Yuuri could only give an almost imperceptible nod.

“Will you come to the new year's eve ball?” asked Victor softly, his fingers still lingering on Yuuri’s chin.

Yuuri blinked in surprise, had there been doubts that he wouldn't?

“Yes, of course, Victor,” he replied firmly, wanting to dispel the cloud of uncertainty.

Victor looked as though he wanted to add something, but eventually settled for an affectionate smile, as he pulled away completely, and walked towards the waiting car.

 

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“Earth to Kastuki Yuuri! Anyone there? Hel-lo!”

Yuuri snapped out of his reverie, and Phichit came back into focus, with his arms folded, staring at Yuuri in mild annoyance, and saying in a tone of mock irritation, “For the third time, I cannot help you get ready if you keep disappearing off to la-la land. Now, where’s the white-tie attire?”

Yuuri flushed a furious red, and quickly turned to look through the row of clothes hanging in his closet.

He _had_ been thinking about Victor. More specifically, about the tender kiss they shared in the quiet emptiness of the apartment lobby only two days ago.

And the previous time Phichit had caught him day-dreaming, he had gone glassy-eyed at the memory of Victor’s unexpected visit only yesterday afternoon. Victor had messaged Yuuri after practice, saying that there had been a cancelled meeting and whether Yuuri wanted to meet up for coffee. Yuuri had been packing up to leave, and had replied immediately.

 **Sure. I’m just about to head back for a shower. I’ll leave the door open if you want to wait at the apartment for me.** 15:23

 **I’ll see you in a bit :)** 15:23

Yuuri had rushed back as quickly as he could, and when he came out of the shower, he was greeted by the alluring sight of Victor draped lazily across the blue couch, his jacket and tie hung carelessly on the back of the couch, his top shirt button undone, and his chiselled features relaxed as he idly scrolled through his phone. He had taken off his shoes, with his long legs stretched out in front of him, and Yuuri could see the vague outlines of his toned muscles.

For a fleeting moment, he’d forgotten how to breathe.

They’d ended up in a rustic café somewhere in the city, nestled in a corner with a shaky round table. Their knees were nearly touching, and every movement seemed to inadvertently bring them into contact. Yuuri had remembered the thrill each time Victor’s hand had lightly brushed against his, or when Victor’s foot seemed to linger just a little too long next to his leg.

It was exactly what Yuuri had pictured their first meeting would be, two weeks ago, when he’d sent Victor the first message. Amidst the bustle of the tiny café, they had spent the time talking. About the authors they liked, about the books that had never left them, about the music they were listening to recently, about the movies that had shifted their views of the world, about cities they love.

Yuuri had lost track of time, and eventually coffee had turned into dinner. He barely remembered the restaurant they went to, or what they had for dinner, possibly pasta. In the glow of the small candlelit restaurant, their talk had turned to their own lives.

Yuuri remembered the vivid heaviness of Victor’s tone when he touched on his father’s dream to reconnect with Russia, “He may resent my grandfather for trying to hide our Russian descent in the past, and he sees this as our chance to find ourselves again,” Victor had said carefully, “I want to support him, I really do, and it means so much to him. But…” Victor had sighed tiredly, and Yuuri had reached across to pat his hand awkwardly.

Despite his weariness, Yuuri knew there was still an undercurrent of excitement that Victor still had for his work, which bubbled up every time they talked about his plans to expand in Japan, and he gushed about the untapped potential of the Japanese market. But it gradually became clear to Yuuri that Victor was seriously overreaching himself because of this project, trying his best to manage the massive Russian one, while juggling this smaller project that sounded severely understaffed and underfunded.

Yuuri gave a helpless laugh at that. It sounded all too familiar. Didn’t he decide to take on the extra duet and the choreography on top of the usual credit requirements just because he couldn’t bear to give up on his passions? Maybe he wasn’t the only person whose pig-headedness had gotten them into trouble.

To reciprocate Victor’s openness, he had shared his struggles with his upcoming performances, even though they sounded inconsequential next to multimillion-dollar deals. But Victor had seemed fascinated and hungry for details, and Yuuri had found himself sharing things that no one else aside from Phichit knew.

Throughout the dinner, Yuuri could feel Victor’s leg against his, and the casual, almost incidental contact had been both comforting and maddening.

Yuuri shook his head and tried to focus. This was the fourth time he had wandered off into woolgathering territory. Right, white-tie outfit, white-tie... After a while, he frowned, and called out to Phichit, who was picking out his shoes in the next room, “I don’t think Celestino gave me white tie attire, Phichit. I see a white jacket, but Celestino says it’s only for weddings and things.”

Phichit came running into the walk-in closet, dropping four pairs of shoes on the ground and began rummaging through the clothes, “What do you mean no white tie?!” Then, he sighed loudly and pulled out a midnight blue tailcoat, “What is _this_?”

Yuuri stared vacantly at the attire, and said with a blank look, “But it’s not white.”

Phichit pinched the middle of this forehead and said, “Oh my god, Yuuri. White-tie doesn't mean the entire outfit is white. Only the bow tie is white. You know what, nevermind. _This_ is white-tie. It says here on Celestino’s note too. It also says the tailcoat and trousers are usually black but Celestino thinks you can pull off dark blue. So, go put on this dress shirt and these trousers, and then…”

Yuuri dutifully followed Phichit’s instructions. Pulling on the dress shirt and trousers, followed by the stiff close-fitting waistcoat, and finally reaching the smart tailcoat that hung to his thighs at the back, presumably the ‘tail’ portion of the coat. Phichit had to help him with the cufflinks, and he had the chance to flex his bow tying skills once again. Then, Phichit went to work on styling his hair, and as the falling strands were pushed away from his face, Phichit also banned him from wearing his glasses, saying sexiness needed sacrifices.

When they were done, he was left staring at his blurry reflection as Phichit went off to retrieve the gardenia boutonniere that Victor had sent. He’d never been this dressed up before, and it felt more like he was wearing a costume for a performance than for a ball. It seemed to give him a strange confidence that he didn’t know he had. A sudden quiver of excitement coursed through his blood. He had been in a constant state of nervous anticipation since last night, which was very confusing because he wasn’t sure what he was waiting for.

But he knew it had something to do with the third kiss they had stolen after dinner. Victor had walked him back again, and they had stopped to say goodbye a little way from the entrance because the lobby would be busy around this time in the evening. Partially hidden in the shadows, Victor had wrapped both his hands around the sides of Yuuri’s face and leaned in for a deep longing kiss that made his heart race. He had responded by grabbing onto Victor’s shirt collar to drag him closer, and was rewarded with a small moan.  

They had to stop all too soon, and Yuuri was left with a desperate craving, along with Victor’s lingering scent, as they said their breathless good nights.

He looked at his reflection again, his cheeks tinted pink at the memory of last night. There seemed to be a persona in him that only Victor could draw out, and he wondered how much of it would emerge tonight.

 

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Yuuri was beginning to understand why Victor had chosen to live at the Century before he’d moved back to the Nikiforov mansion. The Pierre hotel was again a mere 15-minute walk away. But since he didn’t want to muss up his clothes too much, or walk through the streets of New York in this get-up, he’d resigned himself to waiting for the limo, even knowing that it’ll be 10 minutes of queuing in traffic.

The limo appeared soon after he stepped out of the apartment building, and as he crawled into the seat next to Victor, he tried not to stare too openly at the snug fit of the black tailcoat around Victor’s broad shoulders and strong chest. But when he met Victor’s eyes, he saw a keen, fiery look that clouded Victor’s expression, and his thin lips were slightly parted.

Yuuri felt the strange surge of confidence again, which propelled him to lean forwards and brush his lips lightly, almost teasingly, across Victor’s. When he pulled back, he smiled smugly at the look of surprise on Victor’s face, which had quickly morphed into hunger, as Victor held his face lightly and pulled him in for another frantic kiss.

Yuuri felt a wicked pleasure in throwing Victor off guard and to lose a fraction of his control. He really should’ve felt embarrassed by this, but something was keeping it at bay, an eager and maddening anticipation.

When they arrived at the hotel, Victor hastily tried to regain his composure before the driver opened his door. By the time Yuuri was by his side, his calm smile was back in place, but Yuuri noticed there was a lingering flush on his cheeks.

Before they could enter the ballroom, they were led to a long trestle table with a wide selection of masks, ranging from ones with peacock feathers to simple black ones. Victor noticed his questioning look and explained, “It’s a themed charity ball. The theme last year was so disastrous that they immediately reverted to an oldie this year, Masquerade,” he said with a flourish, “I come every new year’s. I think it’s for a leukaemia foundation this time.”

He cast a quick glance over the selection and picked out a silver mask with intricate leaf patterns in black. Yuuri took a closer look at the available choices, while he certainly didn’t want any feathers, the simple black ones looked too severe, but he eventually spotted a velvet black mask with deep blue damask patterns. It nestled comfortably on his face, secured in place with a soft silk ribbon.

As they entered the ballroom, Yuuri thought that he had seen enough fancy places to be slightly jaded now. But the scene still managed to dazzle him. The ballroom itself had an understated opulence, with its rich carpet of muted geometric patterns, and half a dozen twinkling chandeliers hung from its plain arched ceiling. The sides of the room were raised slightly and sectioned off by wooden railings and small steps, making them look like small balconies.

A number of round tables were arranged around the place, but a large space had been cleared in the centre, where couples were sweeping gracefully across the room to a lively waltz that was coming from a live orchestra at the far end of the ballroom. Yuuri gawped at the dancers, the women were dressed in elegant gowns of all colours that flared outwards as they were twirled around the room, and the men looked impeccable in their dapper tailcoats.

Once again, he was surprised at the difference of this crowd from the ones he had seen before. They seemed much more relaxed and their laughter was more carefree, sounding as though they were here purely to eat, drink and dance. He turned to observe Victor and saw that his face with radiating with excitement and glee.

Maybe it was the deceptive anonymity of the mask or the cheerful atmosphere, Victor hadn’t hesitated when he slipped his arm around Yuuri’s waist, and didn’t seem to care if anyone noticed this physical intimacy as he called out merrily to people he knew. At some point, they joined the throng of dancers, with Victor taking the lead, since he wasn’t familiar with the follower’s steps.

Yuuri basked in Victor’s delighted laughter as they twirled across the room, silently thankful that he had taken part in the student-run ballroom and Latin dance society, which meant he could seamlessly follow Victor’s lead. The orchestra seemed very versatile, throwing out tunes from all forms of dances, and they danced to everything they knew, even to some they didn’t, finally stopping when they were out of breath.

Victor led them to a small table in one of the raised balconies, his hand still intertwined with Yuuri’s. He signalled a waiter to ask for water and champagne, then proceeded to collapse haphazardly into a chair.

“Wow, that was amazing!” he exclaimed, still glowing from the string of dances they’d had. Yuuri beamed happily at him, both amused and pleasantly surprised at Victor’s liking for ballroom. Just then, someone tapped Victor gently on the shoulder and said, “I see you had fun, Victor-san.”

Victor whipped around and then stood up to shake the person’s hand, “Kenji-san! Happy New Year. Please join us. This is Katsuki Yuuri.”

Yuuri jumped up at the mention of his name, and noting that the person was Japanese, he refrained from offering a handshake and bowed his head slightly, mumbling, “ _Hajimemashite_ .” To which, the stranger had responded with surprise, quickly returning his bow and saying, “ _Aa…Hajimemashite. Fukuda Kenji desu._ This is a pleasant surprise, Victor-san. _”_

Victor smiled brightly at him, then turned to Yuuri to explain, “Kenji-san is the son of a manufacturer and distributor in Japan, and we may work with them in the future.”

“ _Second_ son,” Kenji added, “My brother’s the one you have to make a deal with when he comes next week. I'm only based in the New York branch, in _marketing,_ so I’m the wrong person to bribe,” and he gave Yuuri a grin.

“Kenji-san and I know each other mainly from the same events we like to attend,” Victor explained to Yuuri, then turned to ask Kenji, “Are you here alone?”

Kenji raised an eyebrow at him, “Have you ever seen me alone? No, my companion was talking to someone he knew and so... I wandered off.” He cast an expectant glance around the room, then said, “There he is now,” but oddly, made no move leave.

After a while, a tall and lean man with jet black hair approached their table, and stood behind Kenji, his face half obscured by a sleek black mask. He rested a hand on Kenji’s nape and seemed to grip it too tightly for comfort, as he said in a low, stern voice, “I thought I said _not_ to wander off?” A cloud of lust seemed to pass over Kenji’s face, as he seemed to relish in the discomfort, and he stood up wordlessly to follow the stranger. The stranger’s steely grip remained firmly in place, and he had thrown a quick glance at Yuuri before steering them away.

Yuuri stared at their retreating backs, and thought the stranger’s looked oddly familiar, as did his voice. He frowned as he tried to place the cold voice and self-assured gait. Then, his eyes widened when he realised it had been Seung Gil. And what they had witnessed had been his unique brand of complicated relationships.

The display they had seen brought back the strange surge of confidence, and made him realise why he had been abuzz with anticipation all day. He wanted Victor to have the same look of longing he’d seen on Kenji’s face. And he wanted to be the one who drew it out. Most definitely not the way that Seung Gil did, he thought with a blush. But, somehow.

Inspiration struck when the orchestra began playing a seductive Argentine tango[3]. He stood up and offered his hand to Victor, who took it tentatively, saying, “I don’t know this one.” But Yuuri only flashed him a sensuous smile and led him to the dance floor, where he took up the embrace position of tango, wrapping a protective arm around Victor, pulling him inwards, and intertwining their free hand. This brought them much closer than the other dances, and Yuuri said softly, “Lean into me and feel how my weight shifts. Close your eyes if you have to and let me lead.” He heard a hitch in Victor’s breath and felt Victor pushing more strongly against his arm.

Yuuri began shifting his weight slowly to the sensual beats of the music, and felt Victor mirroring him. Then, he began to take slow steps forwards, and Victor followed him easily, subconsciously trying to maintain only the slightest sliver of space between them. Yuuri knew that the tango was not a dance for flashy steps, but for the intense connection between the dancers. There were no set moves, only the follower responding to the leader, which made even their slow walk around the ballroom a sensuous dance. Yuuri began to lead them into the more complicated _ocho_ moves, guiding Victor across his body to make small figure of eights on the floor, then mirroring the same moves. He stole a glance at Victor and saw that his eyes were still closed, looking as though he had lost himself in the gliding steps they took.

Yuuri slowed them into a gentle sway as the last melancholy notes of the music died away. When they stopped, Victor finally opened his eyes, and fixed Yuuri with burning look of lust.

Before their minds could catch up with them, they had slipped out of the ballroom and into the street, leaving much too early for the new year countdown.

 

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As soon as the elevator doors were closed, Victor had pinned him to the wall, and pressed their lips fiercely together. Yuuri melted into the intensity of the kiss, and his grip on Victor’s hips tightened as he drew them closer. When the elevator reached the eleventh floor, they stumbled out of it, and Yuuri began fumbling through his pockets for the apartment key.

When he finally managed to unlock the apartment door, Victor pushed it open impatiently and pulled Yuuri through the doorway with him. Their lips connected again, as they shrugged off their tailcoats and Victor quickly began unbuttoning Yuuri’s waistcoat and dress shirt. As soon as Yuuri felt the sharp cold air of the room against his skin, Victor’s electrifying touch was exploring his bare torso. He braced himself against Victor’s shoulders and pushed them insistently towards the bedroom. As they moved, Victor began to leave a trail of fiery kisses down the side of his neck, which drove away the last senses of his lust-addled mind.

“Wait, Yuuri” Victor said breathlessly, and stopped them at the doorway to the bedroom. He met Yuuri’s puzzled gaze with concern in his unfocused eyes, and asked, “How far do you want us to go?”

Yuuri’s previous doubts had vanished, and he trusted Victor not to hurt him, so he replied firmly with a smouldering look, “You’re the sugar daddy, you tell me.”

Victor seemed to snap at Yuuri’s reply, as he manoeuvred them into the bedroom and gently pushed Yuuri down onto the bed, capturing Yuuri’s lips passionately once again, before moving downwards to leave kisses on his neck and chest. Yuuri closed his eyes to savour Victor’s fervent lips, his hands reaching to touch Victor wherever he could.

Victor began undoing his trousers, leaving more sweltering kisses down his abdomen. When his thumbs were hooked around the waistband, Yuuri lifted his body instinctively and let out a soft moan as Victor removed his boxer briefs at the same time, exposing his throbbing cock to the chilly air of the room. Then, Yuuri’s eyes flew open, half sitting up in surprise, when Victor began kissing the base of his cock, and he stuttered, “Victor, what are you doing?“

Victor gave him a sultry look and replied, “I’m the sugar daddy, so take what I freely give.” Yuuri fell back onto the bed, and bit the back of his hand to stifle his growing moans, as Victor began licking up and down the shaft. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t a blowjob from a sugar daddy.

As Victor began attacking his cock in fervour, Yuuri entangled his fingers in Victor's hair, his mind exploding with a million sensations. When his cock hit the back of Victor’s throat and then had gone further, his back arched off the bed and he lost his mind, not caring that he was now groaning out loud. Victor seemed to be taking obvious delight from this, and his low hum of pleasure sent exquisite vibrations down the length of his shaft.

It wasn't long before Yuuri was coming and he limply tried to push Victor away. But Victor simply enveloped the tip of his cock with his warm mouth and seemed to be sucking the come out of him, sending shocks of pleasure up his spine as his world went white.

After what had seemed an age of ecstasy, he sank into a deep stupor, even when his mind urged him to wake up and do something in return for Victor, he couldn’t seem to move his muscles. He was barely conscious when Victor finally returned from the bathroom, and the last debris of his clothes were removed. He felt himself being gently rearranged on the bed, as Victor climbed in beside him, and drew him into a warm embrace.

He realized, before slipping out of consciousness that at some point during these past few days with Victor, he had forgotten to think about the price of heartbreak, and his sole concern had been on the time they spent together.

His last fleeting sensations were the smoothness of Victor’s skin against his own, and the faint popping of fireworks in the distance.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 [Satie ](https://youtu.be/5pyhBJzuixM?t=14m47s): 3 Gymnopédies, 6 Gnossiennes  [ return to text ]  
> 2 [Firebird ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EC6MmmLKEmA)pas de deux  [ return to text ]  
> 3 [Tango ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DbAygn5SY7w): Astor Piazolla's Milonga del Angel  [ return to text ]  
> All comments welcome!!  
> And you can contact me on [tumblr ](https://weberina.tumblr.com/) (for anything really... a chat or questions etc.)


	6. Dreams and Realities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the longer wait!!! This was a monster of a chapter that kept getting longer and longer XoX.......  
> Beta'd by my wonderful sister :D

 

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Victor awoke to the gentle rays of sunlight streaming through the windows, and the warmth radiating from a sleeping figure snuggled close to him. A smiled formed on his lips at the easy intimacy that Yuuri exuded in his sleep, and Victor buried his face in the crook of Yuuri’s neck to breathe in his addictive scent.

With reluctance, he gently unraveled his arms from Yuuri’s body and sat up on the bed, knowing that it was probably far later than either of them would’ve liked. He scanned the room quickly for something to throw on, thinking it probably wasn’t a good idea to make breakfast in the nude. Thankfully, he found a large, baggy T-shirt and shorts strewn near the bed, and quickly pulled them on as he padded quietly into the kitchen.

He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed this apartment. How it was filled with light in the morning, giving it a luminous spaciousness, and how its lovely simplicity seemed to enhance its serenity.

Coffee was bubbling in the metallic percolator and the scrambled egg was steaming away when Victor realized with a flinch that he’d eased into his routine without thinking, and hadn’t considered how Yuuri would react to him pottering about in a kitchen that technically wasn’t his anymore.

But before his thoughts went further, they were driven away by the sight of Yuuri emerging shyly from the bedroom, his hair still ruffled from sleep, his footsteps cautious, as though he was the intrusive guest not Victor.

“Good morning, Yuuri,” Victor greeted cheerfully, as he poured thick black coffee into two small cups, topped it up with foamy milk, and placed them on the breakfast table. Before he could turn to deal with the toast, Yuuri had cleared his throat nervously and blurted out, “I-I’m sorry I fell asleep… _after_. I mean, last night. I should’ve stayed awake.”

Victor looked at Yuuri in confusion, noticing that he was blushing a deep crimson. Then, it dawned on him that Yuuri was embarrassed about not returning the favour, which was a thought that hadn’t even crossed his mind.

In fact, most of his brain had been too turned on to think straight from the moment Yuuri had whispered, “Let me lead”. To their frantic kisses. And to Yuuri’s seductive taunt, which had opened the floodgates to all the inner desires that had simmered quietly under his rational reasons for becoming a sugar daddy.

He knew he took an immense, almost perverse pleasure in giving. He'd once thought it would be enough to shower someone with gifts, money and luxury, and he’d never quite managed to forge a deeper connection. But, then, Yuuri had come along.

Yuuri, who had accepted the material pampering with a deep reluctance. But who seemed to revel in Victor himself. Yuuri, who had accepted his circumstances without question. Yuuri, who had opened up a safe space for him to fully explore his desires within the security of a budding relationship, with someone who seemed to care more about him than the things he gave. And to bring Yuuri to the edge of ecstasy until he’d passed half out of consciousness had been exhilarating.

He gave Yuuri an affectionate smile and said, “No, you didn’t have to. It was my pleasure. Besides,” he grinned suggestively, “you gave me plenty of material to work with afterwards.”

Yuuri’s blush deepened, and Victor casually turned his attention back to breakfast, though secretly glad that Yuuri was now too distracted to linger over his embarrassment at falling asleep.

Yuuri mumbled a bashful, “Thank you” when Victor placed two plates of scrambled egg and toast on the breakfast table, and they ate in a comfortable silence. Victor had stolen occasional glances at Yuuri, catching glimpses of his pensive expression, which broke into clear enjoyment when he’d first tasted the coffee, and contentment when he began eating.

Now was probably a good time to bring it up, he thought, feeling the slight tug of hesitation, which came from the previous occasions when Yuuri had been reluctant to accept any form of gift or assistance from Victor. But he’d put it off long enough, and really did need an answer today.

“Yuuri,” he began slowly, and Yuuri gave him a questioning glance, “When you said that you were having some problems with the Firebird piece…” But he paused when he saw a troubled look on Yuuri’s face that was laced with tendrils of defensiveness.

He cringed, knowing it was extremely presumptuous and intrusive of him to offer this kind of help, especially when Yuuri spoke with a fierce pride about his artform. But it had pained him even more to _not_ do anything when he knew that Yuuri was in distress.

So he soldiered on, “I got in touch with someone I know who may be able to help you.” He looked up to check Yuuri’s reaction, and continued when he was met with an ambiguous expression, “Her name is Lilia Baranovskaya. She's a former prima ballerina of the Bolshoi Ballet, but she opened a studio here in New York when she left. She has agreed to give you a trial lesson later this week, if you want to. On Friday.”

Yuuri’s eyes widened in shock, and Victor couldn't tell if his suggestion had offended Yuuri on any level.

After a moment of awkward silence, Victor started again, “It's just that the Firebird was one of her signature pieces and I thought maybe a few lessons from her might be useful. If you wanted them. But I need to let her know by today so…”

“But Victor,” replied Yuuri in a breathless voice edged with panic, “I can't- You- It's too expensive!”

Victor blinked in surprise. He hadn't considered that the expense would be one of the issues.

“Please don't worry about that, Yuuri,” said Victor earnestly, “Let me do this for you.” And he bit back the urge to say, in return for everything you've given me.

Yuuri's face was a turmoil of open emotions, flitting from excitement to apprehension to hesitance. Victor waited patiently as Yuuri sorted through his thoughts, and after a few failed attempts at speaking, he finally said softly, “Thank you so much for this, Victor. I'll do my best.”

The gentle words had evoked an uncontainable surge of happiness, and Victor could only smile giddily, as Yuuri began clearing the plates. Staring at the back of Yuuri’s slender frame over the sink, Victor’s mind could only hold one thought, that the start of the new year was far better than he could’ve possibly imagined.

 

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His schedule over the past three days had been a hectic mess. Never mind that most of the country had time off. Victor could barely find the time to eat, as he scrambled to catch up with the mountain of work that Darlene had steadily and meticulously pushed his way, finding only precious pockets of time to message Yuuri when he could.

He felt himself splitting at the seams, as he tried to hold the large and unwieldy Russian project together, poring over final costings, obsessing over the sales pitches, trying to juggle a hundred details of every key decision maker in the process, from primary producers to manufacturers to retailers.

Everything had to be in place for the large dinner party at the Nikiforov mansion that Saturday. It was a looming deadline for his team to make sure that the senior management was properly briefed on all the preliminary details, before unwritten agreements were quietly forged during the party. His only secret triumph was that he’d managed to slip Yuuri into the final guest list, which gave him another excuse to see Yuuri again.

When even Darlene had gone home, Victor remained behind with his small team for the Japan project, meeting at odd hours and trying to cobble together what they could. Just as the Russian project was in full swing, they had to fit in the preparation for their first meeting with their first Japanese distributor, represented by Fukuda Kenichi, which was only made possible by Victor’s long-standing friendship with his brother, Fukuda Kenji.

But the project was on incredibly shaky ground. Jason was the only person on the team who had any previous dealings with the Japanese business world, and his time was split between several projects. So, Victor was mostly left with the efforts of eager but inexperienced junior employees, who seemed to create more confusion in the wake of their overexcitement.

He stepped out of the office showers for the third time that week, having not left the building for three days and sending a stream of unfortunates to fetch him changes of clothes. He felt a thrill of anticipation at the evening’s event. Yuuri would be there, and he’d felt an odd sense of loss over being apart for nearly three days since leaving the apartment. Plus he was glad of an excuse to take a break, even though technically the event still counted as work because the Fukuda brothers would be there too.

It was the opening night of a Washi paper exhibition, which celebrated the exquisite art form of Japanese paper-making. It was organized by the Nippon Club, and as one of the sponsors of the club, Victor had been invited to the exclusive private viewing before the exhibition was opened to the public.

Sponsoring the Nippon Club had been a tactical move on his part. Since he was only allocated limited funds for his smaller project, he had decided that instead of organizing a massive social event like the company usually did, the most cost-effective way to gain a foothold in the Japanese community was to support this association, which was also the only Japanese social club in New York.

His plan had worked like a dream, because the club organized a full range of events, everything from culture and the arts to sports and business. As a sponsor, he’d been invited to every single one, which allowed him to create a small web of contacts, while also building up his reputation. He grinned to himself as he straightened his tie in the mirror and thought, all this for a fraction of the cost it takes to throw a party themselves.

And tonight, he would have the bonus of sharing this event with Yuuri. He felt a flutter of excitement at the thought that Yuuri’s presence would open up a whole new perspective on this delicate artform of painstakingly crafting fragile pieces of paper, and wondered what someone who’d been surrounded by it his whole life would think of the exhibition.

He ran a smidgen of wax through his hair, gave himself a quick once over in the mirror, and stepped lightly out of the office with a vague smile on his face.

 

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Victor thought he’d heard someone talking to him and began looking around his office to identify its owner until his eyes landed on Darlene, who had one hand on her hip and an eyebrow lifted in irritation.

“Yes?” he asked, trying his best not to sound as though he had just been daydreaming, which was precisely what he’d been doing.

“Victor, honey,” Darlene began in annoyance, “You either need to get some sleep or try to focus. We’ve only got one more day, and I’ve called you three times.”

Victor ran his fingers through his hair. Yes, he really needed to sleep but there was no time. And his mind wasn’t helping matters by throwing him flashes of Yuuri the entire morning.

Yuuri, in a black slim-fitted suit, dashing out of the apartment with his hair still slightly damp, explaining apologetically that he’d been practicing for his lesson with Lilia.

Yuuri, with a glint of recognition in his eye, as he wandered through the darkened rooms of the exhibition. His soft features lit only by dim paper lamps, as he took in the intricate designs of the Washi paper on display. His light touch on Victor’s arm, as he pointed out an elegant Washi doll, dressed in a kimono with exquisite gold and yellow butterflies, and said with deep nostalgia that his mother had a doll just like that.  

Yuuri, revealing another hidden side of himself, as he chatted amiably to the Fukuda brothers with the kind of familiarity and comfort that only came with speaking to someone sharing the same cultural background. Even the more serious and reserved Kenichi had relaxed slightly, as they shared their mutual liking for seaside towns in subdued excitement, keeping a polite distance that seemed to set them much more at ease than the brash friendliness Victor was used to.

Yuuri’s eyes dimming in disappointment when he realized that Victor had to return to the office after the event. How he’d brushed his hand lightly against Victor’s as they left the exhibition, their first true touch in three days, and Victor had slipped naturally into the familiar grasp of his fingers. How Victor had leaned in cautiously for a kiss in the elevator, only to be yanked forward impatiently by his tie, his lips locked in a demanding and possessive kiss that had left him flushing, out of breath and his lips slightly swollen when the elevator doors opened. He had immediately regretted his decision to work late.

He grinned sheepishly at Darlene. Yuuri was all his mind could think of the entire morning, and Darlene’s annoyance slowly morphed into a sly, knowing look. “It’s Yuuri Katsuki, isn’t it?”

To which, Victor responded by trying to hide his blush behind the paper in his hand, and asking, “So, what did you need me for?”

Darlene’s expression immediately became serious again and she said sternly, “One of the old windbags decided to borrow Jason for the next few days.”

“What? _Our_ Jason?” exclaimed Victor, as he looked up in surprise, “But we need him for the meeting with the Fukuda people tomorrow. He’s not even sat through the final presentations. Or even looked at the gifts we were going give. Can we get him back?”

“It’s too late now,” Darlene said in a frustrated tone, “He was carted off before I found out. What should we do?” she asked, barely containing the murderous intent in her voice.

Victor stared at her angry glare, his exhausted mind tried to quell the rising despair and come up with another plan. No, no, no, no. How could they have done that. His only full day to prepare for the meeting tomorrow and they’ve taken the only person who actually knew how to deal with Japanese businessmen. He really needed Jason to look over the presentations that the junior staff had prepared. As much as he loved their enthusiasm, subtlety and restraint were definitely not their strong points. Jason was supposed to tone them down. And then check that the gifts didn't go against some kind of custom. And then go through the basic etiquette.

He closed his eyes and leaned heavily back into his chair, groaning quietly as he hid his face in his hands. There must be someone, he thought wearily, someone in the office, or some of their partners, or someone they knew, or-

Then his eyes flew open. He couldn't. It would be completely unfair of him to do so, but he didn’t know where else to turn at such short notice. Maybe it was fine if it was just this once…

In a level tone, he said to Darlene, “Could you get Yuuri on the phone for me?”

 

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Yuuri had come as soon as Victor had called, without question or hesitation. But his nervousness became apparent when he stepped into Victor’s office. As soon as Darlene had released him from her overly excited greeting, he said tensely, “I'm not sure if I can help, Victor. I've never done anything like this before.”

But Victor had replied in a firm voice, “Trust me, Yuuri. Whatever you contribute today will definitely help.” They heard a small commotion outside as Darlene rounded up the team, and Victor quickly continued, “For now, I just need you to listen to their presentations, and if anything sounds a little odd, or too jarring to you, just let us know.” Yuuri seemed to catch his meaning and nodded his head slowly. “And Yuuri,” said Victor, laying his hand gently over Yuuri's, “Thank you again for coming.” Yuuri only shook his head slightly and gave Victor a sweet smile, which caused a lump to form in his throat.

During the team meeting, Victor had introduced Yuuri vaguely as a friend and moved on hastily. Yuuri had listened intently to the presentations, and Victor had caught him flinching occasionally but he never said a word. In fact, the first time he had spoken up shyly was at something that sounded ridiculous even to Victor. Thankfully, the junior had stopped immediately and jumped to correct the slide until it sounded less cringeworthy to Yuuri.

The positive response caused Yuuri to become bolder, and he began speaking up more frequently, even making them go back to the earlier slides in his shy but persistent way. It had been the right move to bring Yuuri in. Even if Victor could’ve pinpointed what sounded wrong, he couldn't have begun to describe how to modify it.

They ran through the presentations once more, and there was a general consensus that the tone sounded much more appropriate for the meeting. Then, the discussions began turning to the basic etiquette of business meetings.

Yuuri tried to give his best guesses on what to expect and how to react, but his words were constantly littered with hesitant pauses and troubled uncertainty, as he repeatedly said it depended on the age of the person, how formal they wanted to be, possibly their rank, and he really wasn’t sure how much of this applied to a business setting.

In the end, one of the juniors had snapped of her growing confusion and suggested, “Why don’t you come to the meeting, Yuuri? Then, we can take our social cues from you. It’ll be much simpler. I mean, we’ll just say you’re a…a cultural adviser or something, and you know the project well enough now to direct any questions to one of us.”

Yuuri had immediately given Victor a panicked look, and Victor had almost put a stop to the idea, when a general murmur of agreement rose around the table. Victor looked worriedly at Yuuri, but he knew that since they’d already met once, Yuuri’s presence would probably put Kenichi at ease again, which would greatly improve their chances of moving the deal forward.

He bit his bottom lip as he mulled over the situation, and finally said, “It would be very helpful to us if you did, Yuuri. But it’s entirely up to you. Feel free to say no.”

Yuuri had glanced at the eager faces around the table, took another look at Victor’s creased eyebrows, and then seemed to give in, as he took a deep breath and nodded.

After the meeting, Yuuri had followed Victor into his office, and Darlene went to fetch the gifts she had prepared for the meeting. It was nothing too risque, just the company’s standard gift pack of cigars, snuff and a small bottle of single-malt whisky. But it was probably best to check. They settled on the couch to wait for Darlene, and Yuuri was sitting enticingly close to him. Victor desperately wanted some kind of contact, but the glass doors separating his office from the cubicles outside offered next to zero privacy.

Darlene returned before long, holding an elegant blue and silver gift bag. As she began lifting out its contents and introducing them to Yuuri, Victor noticed that he was frowning slightly at the cigars.

“Anything the matter, Yuuri?” he asked.

“Oh,” Yuuri replied quickly, “I was wondering whether you had any other gift packs for the cigars.”

“What’s wrong with this one?” asked Darlene, her eyes wide with concern, “We always use this.”

Yuuri looked slightly embarrassed as he explained, “It’s a Japanese superstition, but four is not a very lucky number, because it sounds like the word for death. And there are four cigars in this pack, so...”

Victor felt his breath hitch at nearly committing a faux pas. He hadn’t even considered the number of cigars in the pack, and Darlene looked like she could smother Yuuri in kisses. “Oh my goodness. Thank god you caught that,” she gasped, “I think we have a pack of eight somewhere. Wait. Is eight ok?” she asked with exaggerated caution.

Yuuri let out a small laugh, and replied warmly, “Yes, it’s perfect. Eight is very lucky.”

As soon as he’d made sure Darlene was out of sight and the coast outside his office was clear, Victor impatiently entangled his fingers in Yuuri’s hair and swiftly drew him inwards to capture his warm lips, trying to express the rush of deep gratitude at Yuuri’s willingness to swoop in and save the project. He felt Yuuri melting eagerly into the kiss, and his exhaustion evaporated as he breathed in the maddening scent that he’d grown to miss, his heart aching tenderly and fluttering wildly at the illicitness of their stolen kiss, in full view of anyone who walked past.

They broke apart too soon, both aware of the consequences if someone happened to look into the office, but a small part of Victor’s arm had stayed attached to Yuuri’s shoulder, partially satisfying his craving for constant contact.

God, he wished he didn’t have to stay late again tonight. He wanted to spend the evening with Yuuri. He wanted to leave this hellhole. He wanted to go home.

He felt his heart stop. As he looked down at Yuuri leaning contentedly into him, he realized that the word home hadn't conjured up the comforts of the Nikiforov mansion. Instead, it brought up a soothing image of his small apartment, and of waking up to the gentle rays of sunlight with Yuuri nestled in his arms. And he felt his chest tightening at a deep longing to relive the memory.

 

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Yuuri let out a huge sigh of relief as he stepped out into the cold air of the streets. It had been an interesting and nerve-wracking two days, what with being roped into the project yesterday, and the gruelling meeting with the Fukuda company this morning. It would soon be followed by a traditional Japanese _Kaiseki_ dinner for the guests that evening, and Yuuri had taken the chance to escape to the practice rooms during the intervening hours.

Yuuri couldn’t believe his ears when Victor had called him yesterday, asking him for help. _Him_ . What could he possibly do to help? In the business world? But he’d agreed immediately, wanting to do anything and everything to repay Victor’s kindness in securing him a lesson with Lilia Baranovskaya.

Victor’s team had surprised him pleasantly. They had been much younger than Yuuri was expecting, most of them sporting lively and boisterous personalities, which had made Yuuri slightly apprehensive about commenting on their presentations. But they had accepted his comments with a generous openness, and had been overly appreciative of his meagre contributions. Before he knew it, he had been swept up in their wave of enthusiasm, and roped into attending the actual meeting itself.

The meeting with the Fukuda company had been the single most stressful thing he'd ever experienced, and he had ended up playing a much larger role than anyone had anticipated. This was partly because the others in the team had followed his lead as Victor greeted the guests, mimicking his deference and speaking in lowered tones. To his horror, however, this also made it appear as though the others were lower in rank. Since Yuuri had also been the only person with Victor when they first met Kenichi at the exhibition, it had further created the impression that _he_ was Victor’s second in command.

And so, after the presentations, many of the questions that had been intended for someone at a lower rank than Victor, had been directed at him, and he tried not to panic as he desperately attempted to understand the questions and scrambled to remember to whom he should redirect them.

But when he did, the team had addressed the questions perfectly, rarely needing to revert them back to Victor, thus artfully forging an image of competence and cohesion. Victor himself had handled issues of major decisions with a subtle blend of shrewdness and integrity, always casting a slight shine on the Nikiforov brand, but never failing to back up the glamour with substance, which made his offers sound irresistible.

It was a mesmerising dance that Yuuri would have enjoyed watching, if not for the unprecedented role he’d had to play.

The only person in the Fukuda party who seemed to know what was going on was Kenji, and he had worn a constant look of amusement throughout the meeting, even giving Yuuri a discreet salute as they left the meeting room.

As he hurried back to the apartment, he realised that he was slightly bothered by how he had been introduced to everyone:first as a 'friend' to Victor’s team and then as a cultural adviser to the Fukuda group. Even as he recalled the thrill of stealing another kiss in Victor’s office before he left, it made him realize how Victor always seemed to be just within his reach, but never quite fully his. Their kisses in the shadows reminded him about the duplicity and secrecy of his role in Victor’s world, and the thought made his chest tighten uncomfortably.

He tried to shut out these feelings when he finally made it to the practice room, and threw himself into rehearsing for his trial lesson with Lilia tomorrow. He had seen videos of her Firebird a hundred times, and had adored how she brought not just a lightness, but a loftiness to the role. Her Firebird had felt untouchable and unreachable, which served as a striking contrast to the bitter struggle that ensued. He had tried and failed many times over to capture this quality in his dance, and tomorrow he would be able to ask her in person.

He was still in disbelief. Of course, he’d already known that Lilia Baranovskaya had a studio in this city. He’d read about her dramatic resignation from the Bolshoi Ballet and subsequent move to New York, publicly criticizing how her former employers were restricting her artistic freedom. He’d even looked up where her studio was and his eyes had watered at the sparse information he could find on the prices of lessons.

But more importantly, she was incredibly stringent and selective about who she accepted as students, and it was nearly impossible to get an audition with her. He had no idea how Victor had managed to slip him in.

He began taking slower and deeper breaths as he neared the end of his practice, feeling much better now that he’d fitted in an extra session before meeting Lilia Baranovskaya tomorrow.

Victor was giving him something that he’d never thought was possible. And next to it, he had nothing of worth give back. It was ironic really. If he’d been content with having Victor as a casual sugar daddy, then he wouldn’t have thought about giving anything back. This would’ve been just another gift. But now that they’d opened the doors to something deeper, it meant so much more to Yuuri, and he needed to find some way to show how much he appreciated it.

For the time being, all he could do was cast aside his growing unease at his duplicitous role in Victor’s life, help where he could with the Japanese guests this evening, and make the most of his lesson with Lilia Baranovskaya tomorrow.

 

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Yuuri had always known that the traditional _Kaiseki_ banquets were formal and solemn affairs. They were the Japanese equivalent of haute cuisine, and involved multiple courses of extremely simple, fresh and beautiful dishes that varied with the seasons. The restaurant that Victor had chosen seemed to enhance the austere elegance of the occasion, tucked away in an unassuming corner of New York, with its polished wooden floors and plain walls.

Yuuri had asked one of the juniors why they hadn’t chosen a restaurant more unique to New York for their guests, or at least a cuisine that was hard to get in Japan. The junior had smiled slyly while saying Victor had heard that Kenichi had an extremely conservative palate, and so would probably appreciate something less adventurous. His decision seemed wise, because Kenichi had looked visibly relieved when he saw the traditional decor of the restaurant.

The private room they were led to was separated by beige sliding doors made of paper, and had an almost severe simplicity, embellished only by a vase of purple orchids. There was a low wooden table surrounded by square cushions, but with space underneath it for those who were not used to kneeling as they ate.

Victor had taken his place at one end of the table, with Fukuda Kenichi at the opposite. It seemed as though the team wanted to continue the charade from this morning, because Yuuri was seated on Victor’s right, which again signalled that he was of higher rank than the others, who had been scattered amongst the Fukuda people.

Thankfully, the conversations were much more social and less restrained, so they could talk about things he actually knew. His place beside Victor also meant that no one expected Yuuri to the take the lead in anything, and he mostly listened contentedly to the lilting tone of Victor’s voice.

The dishes of the ten-course banquet slowly began to stream in, beautiful and delicately balanced, each course intending only to titillate but not overwhelm the senses. Yuuri was constantly amazed by the flavours, which seemed to blend familiar tastes with exotic twists, but always surrounded by a light freshness.

After a while, he noticed that there was a general lull in the conversation at the start of each course. Then, he eventually realized with mortification that the juniors had still been observing his social cues, and were copying the speechless reverence that he had for every dish that was placed before him.

It seemed that Victor had noticed his dazed expression as well and was giving him an affectionate smile, bringing his fingers so close to Yuuri’s that they were almost touching. He began blushing and shifting uncomfortably on the cushion, vaguely thinking that it had been sheer luck he’d decided to sit rather kneel, or else the team would also have copied him and probably be fidgeting awkwardly in their seats by now.

His slight movement brought his knees up against Victor’s and he froze at the sudden contact. But Victor responded by slowly sliding his right shin against the back of Yuuri’s calf, the gentle caress sending a quiver up his spine, as he remembered their furtive kiss after the meeting and Victor’s breathless voice saying he didn’t have to stay late at the office that night.

Yuuri tried to quell the rising desire, the same half-crazed desire that had made him yank Victor possessively into a rough kiss in the elevator. He was no longer unsure about what he wanted, but instead was increasingly frustrated at having Victor just beyond his fingertips, slightly out of reach.

He tried to dispel the fog of lust, his rational mind screaming that the juniors were still observing his every move. He gave Victor a searing look, which left no room for doubt over what he wanted that night, and turned his attention back to the dinner.

 

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They had taken separate cars back to the apartment, and when Yuuri had finally opened the apartment door, he found Victor standing in the dim lights of the living room, his jacket and tie lying on the couch. Before Victor could explain how or why he’d let himself in, Yuuri closed the distance between them with brisk footsteps that betrayed his impatience, and pulled Victor towards him with both hands as soon as he was within reach, his fingers grasping the back of Victor’s neck, his lips drowning out the half-formed words. He felt Victor's strong arms encircling his waist, drawing them into a tight embrace that pressed the full length of their bodies together.

He felt Victor stumble when his knees hit the edge of the couch, and Yuuri carried on the momentum by pushing him further backwards until he was seated. Then, Yuuri kicked off his shoes and straddled Victor on the couch, moving his hips slowly as they kissed, which earned him a muffled groan. He began to unbutton Victor’s shirt, and pushed aside the garment as soon as he could, eager to explore the bare skin underneath. As his fingers caressed the smooth and strong muscles, Victor’s breathing became unmistakably heavier, which made him bolder and he began leaving a trail of possessive kisses down the side of Victor’s neck.

“Yuuri,” gasped Victor, as he gently lifted Yuuri’s face to meet his gaze, his eyes glassy with desire, “Tell me what you want.”

Yuuri returned his gaze with keen intensity, his entire body tingling with a certainty that was almost frightening. The thought that had been running through his mind all day was that Victor would always be beyond his reach in the outside world, but here in the shadows, hidden from view, Victor could be his, with no pretence, no falsehoods, his alone. In a raspy voice, he replied, “I want you.”

He felt the jerk of Victor's hips at his response, desire mounting as their hardness were pressed closer together through the layers of fabric.

But Victor seemed to be holding back, hesitation seeping into his lust-filled eyes, as he asked, “Are you sure you want your first time to be with me, Yuuri?”

Surprise found its way through the fog of desire in Yuuri’s mind and he wondered hazily how Victor knew, the pause bringing back the doubt and fear that accompanied this unknown territory. But deep down he knew that he trusted Victor not to hurt him. “Yes,” he replied firmly, and to make sure there was no room for misunderstanding, he added, “I want you inside me.”

The hesitation vanished from Victor’s face, as he pushed them off the couch and led Yuuri to the bedroom. They kissed fervently as they began to undress each other fully, their hands and lips venturing eagerly across the newly exposed skin. When Victor’s erection was freed, Yuuri touched it cautiously, feeling the ridges and veins, as a surge of anticipation and fear coursed through him at the thought of being penetrated. He broke their contact to retrieve the condoms and lube by the bedside table, needing a moment to get a handle on the overwhelming emotions.

His hands were shaking slightly when he dropped the items on the bed. Victor seemed to pick up on Yuuri's nervousness, as he ran a soothing hand down Yuuri’s back and gently guided him onto the bed. They shared a gentle kiss with Victor’s arms wrapped protectively around him. Then his kisses ventured lower, down his neck, his chest, his abdomen and soon Yuuri felt Victor’s warm mouth wrapped around the head of his cock, and he moaned softly as he melted into the bed.

Yuuri was limp with pleasure when he suddenly felt the warmth leave his throbbing cock and heard Victor uncapping the lube. But soon the warmth returned, accompanied by a gentle caress at his entrance. Before he had the chance to tense up, Victor had slid one finger into him, which sent a sudden burst of pleasure coursing through him, the slow thrusting of Victor’s finger awakening sensations that were familiar but foreign.

After a while, the finger was withdrawn completely, and Victor increased the fervour of sucking on Yuuri’s cock as he gently pushed in two fingers. His nerves flared to life at the stretch, an intense mixture of pleasure and discomfort, and he soon began to push back onto the fingers, moaning out loud every time they were scissored apart to open him further.

The fingers left him completely again, and Victor gently flipped him onto his front. He heard the sound of Victor unwrapping a condom, and then something much larger than fingers was prodding at his entrance. He felt Victor’s heavy breath next to his ears, whispering hoarsely, “Ready?” And he nodded wordlessly, unable to find his voice.

Victor held his hips firmly as he pushed in slowly, and Yuuri’s panted heavily, willing himself to relax, his mind engulfed in the burning fullness of the stretch, as the ring of muscles tried to accommodate Victor’s girth. Soon, the head of Victor’s cock was fully encased, and he rubbed gentle circles on the small of Yuuri’s back, whispering tender words of encouragement, as Yuuri’s clenching muscles adjusted to the invasion.

When he felt Yuuri relax, Victor pushed in a little more and then began to pull out slowly, the movement sparking a whole new wave of sensations that made Yuuri cry out helplessly at the intensity. Victor began to thrust in and out, going deeper each time, and Yuuri found his pain diminishing, while the stretching fullness that filled him morphed into a burning pleasure.

Just when he thought they were at the limit of sensation, Victor changed his angle slightly and hit a bundle of nerves that sent an electrifying burst of unbearable pleasure down his body, making his arms collapse underneath him. Victor seemed to notice this change, and his thrusts began to graze past the same bundle of nerves each time, sending Yuuri into a mindless bliss, as he cried out louder and began pushing himself back into Victor.

That seemed to be the cue that Victor needed. He reached around to jerk off Yuuri’s cock, as his pace became more rapid and his thrusts became harder, his groans betraying a new level of intensity. Yuuri lost his mind to the combined pleasure from his cock and deep in his bowels, his ears ringing as the sensations pushed him past his limit, and before long he was coming hard with a senseless cry of pleasure, his muscles clamping down hard on Victor’s cock.

The rippling pleasure seemed to break Victor’s final control, as he slammed himself deeper and harder into Yuuri without his previous restraint, before coming with a loud moan and collapsing onto Yuuri. They fell onto their sides, still connected, and Victor drew him into a tight embrace as they regained their breaths.

He was still hazy with pleasure when Victor withdrew completely, and was barely conscious as Victor led them into the bathroom to wash off the night’s activities. He sank eagerly back into bed when they were clean again, and nestled comfortably into Victor’s embrace, feeling a deep sense of contentment as he began drifting off. For a brief moment before sleep took him, he wondered why it had bothered him that everything they did was hidden in the shadows. Wasn’t what they had enough?

 

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Yuuri awoke to the gentle rays of sunlight streaming through the windows. He gradually became aware of a stinging, unfamiliar soreness and of warm arms encircling his body, then memories of last night came flooding back in, making him flinch in embarrassment. His sudden movement seemed to have roused Victor from his sleep, as he hummed contentedly and nuzzled his nose against the crook of Yuuri’s neck, sleepily saying, “Mmm….This is much better than waking up in the office.”

Yuuri nestled back into the embrace, still blushing from what they did last night, but feeling a warm glow from Victor’s obvious enjoyment at waking up next to him. He had nearly nodded off again when Victor suddenly sat up and said, “What time is it?”

Yuuri blinked groggily as Victor swung off the bed and began rummaging around the clothes strewn on the floor, with a complete lack of self-consciousness over his nakedness. He heard Victor unlock his phone, followed by his urgent voice, “Yuuri, it’s nearly eight. You’re meeting Lilia in two hours.”

Victor’s words catapulted him into full alertness, and he jumped off the bed to get ready, half running to the bathroom for a quick shower. When he emerged soon after, wearing his most presentable practice clothes, Victor was already fully dressed and busying himself in the kitchen. He looked around at Yuuri’s approach and asked, “Do you want jam on your toast? And can I drop you off at the studio? It will be quicker if I do.”

Yuuri felt a flutter in his heart, amazed and touched in equal parts at Victor’s outward concern about his trial lesson this morning.

“That’d be nice, Victor. Thank you,” he replied earnestly and was rewarded with a heart-breaking smile before Victor returned his attention to buttering the toast.

Yuuri strode quickly into the kitchen and retrieved a carton of orange juice from the fridge, standing next to Victor at the kitchen counter as he poured out two glasses. Victor added the last piece of toast to the growing pile and they quickly began to munch their way through their simple breakfast.

Yuuri stole shy glances at Victor as they cleared the pile of toast, quietly wondering how he should reconcile the intensity of last night with the simplicity of this moment. He felt as though things should be different now, but other than the slight soreness that served as an embarrassing reminder every time he moved, the world seemed to be the same. _He_ seemed to be the same.

He stole another glance at Victor as he washed down the last fragments of toast with the orange juice, but this time was caught in the tender gaze of Victor’s blue-green eyes. Victor set down his glass, and reached up to gently caress the side of Yuuri’s face, as Yuuri melted into his touch.

“I won’t be able to see you until the dinner party tomorrow,” Victor said softly, his voice laced with a slight wistfulness, “Can we have lunch together after your lesson with Lilia?”

Yuuri nodded, feeling his cheeks move against Victor’s hand and a small surge of tension at the upcoming ordeal. Victor gave him a reassuring smile as he said, “You’ll be amazing today, Yuuri. I’m sure of it.”

Yuuri basked in the certainty of Victor’s voice, finding a deep confidence that seemed to quell his rising fears. He returned Victor’s smile, and a new sense of closeness hung in the air as they prepared to leave.

 

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Yuuri looked nervously at the door leading to the main studio, forcing himself to take deep, even breaths before he went in. He had been allowed to arrive half an hour early to warm up in one of the smaller rooms, and his body felt ready for the challenge ahead, but his mind seemed unwilling to cooperate.

He knocked twice on the door, and heard an abrupt voice replying, “Come.” He gently pushed the door open and found himself in a large well-lit studio, his tense reflection peering back at him from the mirrors lining the wall. In the center of the studio, a tall, thin woman with sharp features and prominent cheekbones was inspecting him critically with narrowed eyes.

He stood frozen at the doorway, his mind paralyzed as he tried to not break under her keen searching glance, his instincts warning him against betraying his absolute terror.

After the longest ten seconds of Yuuri’s life, Lilia finally let out a cynical, “Hmm…” Followed by a curt, “Very well. Let’s see your barre work. First to fifth, Antonia.” Her last comment was directed at the pianist in the corner, who instantly snapped to attention.

Surprise jolted Yuuri back to reality. He’d expected Lilia to demand to see his Firebird, not give him an actual lesson. He was positioned at the barre before his mind had caught up, his body moving automatically to the nimble tune coming from the piano and Lilia’s relentless stream of clipped instructions.

He began to ease into the familiar routine, but Lilia’s approach always seemed to be challenging his muscles in a slightly different way, as though his technique was being polished on an unyielding grindstone into an even sharper and more refined tool to be wielded. And her training regime for pointe work had been inhuman, which was probably the reason for her ethereal, weightless performances.

They were hard at work for a full forty-five minutes before Yuuri realized he had been so engrossed in the lesson that he had forgotten Lilia was still deciding whether to accept him as her student. But with the endorphins now swimming in his system from the workout, his earlier panic had gradually been replaced by a thrill of anticipation. When Lilia finally stopped the pianist and instructed her to play the music for the Firebird Pas De Deux, all Yuuri could feel was the surge of lightness and quiet confidence that Victor had given him that morning.

Lilia stopped him before the appearance of Prince Ivan, looking considerably less sceptical than at the start of their lesson.

“So, tell me,” she said pointedly, “What is the essence of the Firebird?”

Yuuri blinked, his mind went blank. He nearly blurted out ‘Fire’ out of panic, but managed to say, “Erm… It’s altruistic?” as he thought about the Firebird’s selfless act of helping Prince Ivan, despite his misunderstanding.

Lillia scoffed in derision. “No,” she said firmly, her eyes burning with a fierce passion. “The essence of the Firebird is _pride_.”

Yuuri’s mind reeled at this new perspective, as Lilia continued, “The Firebird is a proud creature. It is a graceful being with unimaginable powers, able to do things that even Koschei, the villain and ruler of the magical realm, cannot. This is not arrogance, but merely a deep certainty about who it is and what it can do.”

She paused briefly to observe Yuuri’s reaction and then said, “If you want to be the Firebird, you must search within yourself for this pride and let it weave itself into your dance. I want to see it in our next lesson.”

Yuuri’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. Next lesson? Had he been accepted?

But before he could find his voice to clarify, or thank her, she had said, “Dismissed,” and the finality of her tone had sent him scampering out of the door before he came to his senses. Thankfully, the cheerful receptionist had seen his bewildered expression and began taking his details after clarifying that he would be having further lessons.

He wandered around the busy streets of New York with a dazed expression on his face as he tried to recover from the surreal ordeal that had just passed. He still couldn’t quite believe that he would soon be having regular lessons with Lilia Baranovskaya herself, in person.

He paused when he realized that his feet had taken him into Central Park, and collapsed onto the first park bench he saw. As his new reality began to solidify in his mind, he took out his phone to type out a quick message, wanting to let Victor know about this as soon as possible.

**Hi Victor, I’ve just finished the lesson with Lilia, and she’s happy to take me on as a student. Thank you so much again for getting me this opportunity.** 11:37

**That’s wonderful news! I’ll book us somewhere nice to celebrate! Looking forward to lunch.** 11:37

**Me too :)** 11:38

 

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Yuuri glanced up at the imposing Nikiforov mansion as they drove up the familiar driveway. His heart was still buoyant with the exhilaration from yesterday, remembering Phichit’s deafening scream of excitement when he found out, as he repeatedly hugged and congratulated Yuuri.

Yuuri marvelled at the intense pace of the last few weeks. So much had happened at once and the downward spiral of his life had taken a dramatic turn for the better. He lingered fondly over the memory of Victor’s outward relief and joy when they had met for lunch yesterday.

Everything he had received from Victor made his earlier reservations about their relationship seem so petty. Did it really matter that half the people at this dinner party tonight would think of him as an irritating wrinkle in their plans, wanting nothing better than to make him disappear? Did it also matter that the other half wouldn’t even know he meant anything to Victor, that he was just a faceless stranger in Victor’s life?

He knew his answer with a profound certainty, and his true concern had been the exhausted shadows under Victor’s eyes, even as they glinted with pure happiness. His heart had ached painfully when he’d found out that Victor had been sleeping at the office the entire week, even when the apartment had been within easy reach.

Throughout the lunch yesterday, Yuuri had toyed with the idea of letting Victor know that he was free to come to the apartment whenever he was working late, that even when they were not going out or doing something together, Victor would still be welcomed. But Yuuri hadn’t found the right words or the right time, and more importantly, Yuuri hadn’t been sure how Victor would react, not even knowing why Victor hadn’t chosen to do so in the first place. It was his apartment after all.

However, behind all his rational reasons, he gradually admitted to himself that perhaps his hesitation stemmed from his fear of showing Victor his true feelings. After today, the number of events that he would accompany Victor to would fall from every other day to perhaps once or twice a week, and he desperately wanted another reason to see Victor more frequently, but he didn’t know how to prevent his desperation from seeping into his words.

As he walked past the wooden doors into the grand salon, still in awe of its splendour, he heard a smooth voice near him say, “Perfect timing, Yuuri.”

He turned to find Chris giving him a seductive smile by his side, and replied with a grin, “Hi, Chris.”

Chris hooked his arm through Yuuri’s and said in a low tone, “Victor needs to entertain the bigwigs with Mila, so I get to be your escort today.”

Yuuri felt his heart sink at Chris’ words, and he scanned the room until he spotted the familiar glimmer of silver blond hair. He saw Victor listening politely as Mila chatted amiably by his side to a stern-looking man. He seemed to notice Yuuri’s gaze, and turned his head slightly to give Yuuri an apologetic look, his face etched with slight worry. Yuuri responded with a small smile, not wanting Victor to feel bad about a situation he couldn’t help.

He had been half prepared for this to occur, thinking that Victor probably had included him in the guest list on impulse without considering the logistics of how they could be together in a room full of people deeply involved in the Russian project. He forced himself to look away, only to catch Chris’ sympathetic glance as he said, “We might catch them for a while before dinner, if we play our cards right. We probably won’t look too suspicious.”

But they never seemed to find the chance. Yuuri tried to push the sinking feeling away, and focused on the pleasant company that Chris was providing, as he whispered hilarious remarks about the major dealmakers of the Russian project who were there, demonstrating his encyclopedic knowledge of their private lives.

Chris never left his side, even through dinner, explaining that the spotlight would be on Victor and the old warhorses tonight, so no one would even bother looking at him. The food was elegant and scrumptious as expected, but Yuuri couldn’t help looking furtively in Victor’s direction, just to see what he was doing time and again. He caught Victor looking back at him a few times, but they never dared to hold their gaze for too long.

By the end of the dinner, Yuuri began to think that it might have been a bad idea for him to come in the first place. They were surrounded by key players of the Russian project, and there was no way the company’s old timers would allow any prolonged contact between them. He’d never felt so entirely out of place and unwanted in his life.

After Vladimir Nikiforov announced that they could now retire to the drawing room, the dinner guests began to make their way out of the dining room. Yuuri decided to slip away amidst the slight commotion, seeing no point in staying any longer, especially when his presence could cause more trouble. But as he walked out of the dining room, he felt a gentle grip on his arm and he turned to see that Victor had been waiting for him in the shadows by the doors. When the last of the guests had entered the drawing room, Victor led him past the salon, up the grand staircase and out into the night air on the second-floor terrace.

When they were finally alone together, Victor intertwined his fingers in Yuuri’s and kissed the back of his hand, seeming to revel in their simple touch.

“I’m sorry about this” said Victor in a worried tone, “I wasn’t thinking when I asked you to come. I-“ And he stopped, unsure of what he should say.

Yuuri tried to smile reassuringly at Victor as he replied, “It’s fine, Victor. I had a good time with Chris,” But he couldn’t keep the strain out of his voice, as he struggled to suppress the urge from saying, I really don’t belong here, I shouldn’t have come.

Instead, he reached up and gently drew Victor into a kiss, needing the tender yet urgent press of their lips to remind him that what they shared in the shadows was real. That what they had together was real, regardless of what the world beyond wanted.

When they broke apart, it seemed as though the kiss had restored the new closeness they had found, and Victor seemed to be more relaxed as he led them back into the house.

However, as soon as they entered the drawing room, Mila had pounced on Victor, complaining loudly that he shouldn’t have left her alone just to show someone his precious antique pocket watches, and she shot Yuuri a quick, apologetic look. At the same time, Chris had wrapped his arm around Yuuri’s waist and said, “There you are, darling. Wondered where you went,” as he steered Yuuri into a quiet corner. They were joined shortly by Georgi, who seemed less hostile than usual.

When they were sure no one was within earshot, Chris whispered urgently, “I’m sorry about this, Yuuri. Mila overheard one of the investors’ wife say she saw you going upstairs with Victor. Vladimir was furious when he found out, and he threatened to shut down the Japan project if any rumours get started tonight.”

“You should leave now,” said Georgi said in a firm, though not unkind, voice, “I have a car waiting to take you back, and Chris will see you out. And Yuuri,” he paused to look Yuuri in the eye, “I know this sounds harsh, but Vladimir only accepted your relationship because he thought you might be useful to the Japan project. But if you risk the Russian project in any way, he will destroy the one thing that Victor has fought very hard to keep. So, for Victor’s sake, you should refuse if he asks you to attend any more events related to the Russian project.”

Yuuri felt the rising bile and tightening knot in his stomach, as a wave of fear and nausea threatened to drown him. Their one brief stolen moment, barely on the edge of public view. How could it have been a threat to all that Victor had built? He felt a spasm in his heart at the thought that his mere presence was enough to repay all of Victor’s kindnesses with harm, and he couldn’t risk this again.

“I will,” he replied in a dry voice, “And I’d like to go now.”

Georgi’s hard look softened, and he said in a grateful voice, “Thank you, Yuuri.”

Chris intentionally took the most eye-catching route out of the drawing room, hoping to further dispel any rumours surrounding Victor. When they passed where Victor was seated with Mila, Yuuri could feel his intent gaze following him out of the room, but he violently suppressed the urge to look back. Too much was at stake and he didn’t want to be the person who destroyed Victor’s dreams.

He felt numb in the car back to the city centre. When he finally reached his empty apartment, he sat vacantly on the couch in the dark and tried to process his emotions.

But the only emotion he could feel was fear.

He didn’t know how long he sat on the couch, waiting. He didn’t dare to call or message anyone to check if any lasting damage had been done. He didn’t dare find out if Vladimir had managed to persuade or coerce Victor into giving up their relationship. He didn’t dare ask if what they did tonight would mean the end of a dream that seemed to breathe life into Victor. Up until now, he hadn’t known how fragile their reality was.

He knew that this mistake had stemmed from their blinding desire to be close to each other, and everyone, especially Yuuri, had underestimated its effect on Victor. If Yuuri had just been bold enough to tell Victor yesterday that they could be together whenever he wanted, that they didn’t need the pretence of lunches, dinners, parties or balls, that their time spent in the shadows together was more than enough for Yuuri. If he had just asked Victor to come to the apartment after work no matter the time, if they had spent the night together and woken up together. Then, perhaps they wouldn’t have been so desperate to steal a precious moment to the detriment of everything. Perhaps Victor wouldn’t even have decided to slip Yuuri into the guest list in the first place, or perhaps he would've asked Yuuri not to come.

But Yuuri hadn’t said anything, which had led to one silly irrational action that could truly jeopardize all they had. At this moment, he just wanted some sign, some reassurance, some certainty that Victor would come back to him.

He almost cried out in relief when he heard a hesitant knock on the door, and rushed to open it.

Victor had clung to him tightly as soon as the door was opened, whispering, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to leave like that. I’m sorry.”

Yuuri returned his hug with equal ferocity, relieved that Victor could be here at this moment, which meant that nothing too bad had happened.

Their near brush with danger had swept away Yuuri’s earlier reservations, and they couldn’t risk another mistake. So he said what he should’ve said before, as they continued clinging to each other, not caring any longer if desperation was now flooding through his voice, “Come to the apartment when you’re working late. Come to me whenever you want. Just make sure you come back to me.”

He heard a small choke of relief from Victor, as he slowly relaxed his grip enough to look down at Yuuri. "If that's what you want Yuuri," he replied, "I will gladly give it to you."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All comments welcome :D  
> And I'm on [tumblr](https://weberina.tumblr.com/)!


	7. Space

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're past the halfway point now :D Thanks so much for reading, commenting and leaving kudos!!  
> I have a Japanese test next weekend so the next update will be slightly delayed, most likely some time in the first week of July.  
> Very thoroughly beta'd by my sister (and slave-driver). Appreciated as always <3  
> Hope you enjoy the story!

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Yuuri stared at the ceiling in the practice room, his back pressed flat against the wooden floor. The sheen of sweat on his skin had begun to evaporate, which made him shiver slightly in the cool air of the room.

It was nearly the end of the first week in the spring semester,  and he had stayed behind after class to work on his end of year performances. Everything seemed to be coming together. The group performance for the Repertory. The group performance for senior dance production. Even his own choreography had begun to move in the right direction.

He'd finally messaged Cecilia about changing the music, and to his surprise, she’d replied instantly, saying that she’d been having second thoughts about it too. Yuuri had grinned at her reply, remembering Phichit’s remark about how her perfectionist tendencies were as bad as Yuuri’s, and they’d arranged to meet over the weekend.

Everything was moving forward. Except the Firebird. And Yuuri cringed inwardly at the memory of his second lesson with Lilia yesterday.

It wasn't bad, exactly. They'd spent the first half going through ballet techniques again, with a greater emphasis on pointe work, which Lilia had said was the weakness of men’s ballet. The second half had been spent entirely on the Firebird piece, with Lilia making him repeat parts of the dance again and again, picking at even the smallest details.

Yuuri had tried to summon up all the pride he could feel about ballet, the one thing that he had sold his life to, trying to weave the passion he felt for it into his performance. He was one of the 24 dancers accepted into Juilliard and was nearing the end of a somewhat successful four years, with many solid pieces of work under his belt. Surely that had to instill some sort of pride in him.

But that hadn't been enough, and Lilia had a little chat with him at the end of their lesson.

He could still remember her stern voice asking, “What were you thinking about when you were the Firebird?”

And he had replied in slight embarrassment, “My career as a dancer, and the pride I feel for it.”

But Lilia had looked at him skeptically for a moment, and asked, “Tell me, are you truly proud of it?”

A defensive part of him had risen up before he could quash it down, and Lilia had seemed to smile almost unnoticeably before replying, “I am not saying you should not. I am asking if you, in yourself, are truly proud of your work.”

Under the piercing glare that seemed to see his thoughts before he did, he was forced to face the truth. No, he wasn’t. He was constantly surrounded by people whose personalities seem to shine through their dance, each of them with their unique qualities.

He knew he wasn’t the worst in their group, but if he was honest with himself, he hadn’t yet accomplished anything truly special. Not like Leo’s carefree and easy going charm in the first part of their trilogy, or Marianne’s dark and tortured style in the second. His part still lacked...him. And his Firebird was nowhere near perfect.

He had eventually shaken his head mutely.

“Very well,” she replied, the imperceptible smile returning to her lips, “We make progress.” She paused slightly, before adding, “This admission is not a reflection of your worth as a dancer. It only means that you have not reached the standards that you have set for yourself. And the pride you feel for your work will only come when you have exceeded even your own expectations. For now, find another avenue to tap into this emotion.”

His only consolation was that his ballet instructor had been happier with his performance in class today, saying it seemed much more natural. That was something at least. It meant he wouldn't need to worry about the informal studio performance that was coming up next month. It was almost like a rehearsal for the real thing but with a tiny audience, mostly his classmates.

He felt his muscles beginning to stiffen in the coldness of the room, signalling that his small window of reprieve from the outside world would probably need to end soon.

But Yuuri still hadn't found a new path into this foreign emotion. He still didn't know what else he was proud of. Actually, no…he thought, hesitantly. Perhaps not of himself. But he was most definitely proud of his friends. Phichit with his lively, sunny charisma; Richardo with his lazy, charming allure; Cecilia with her manic passion. Yuuko and Takeshi with their deep, tireless love for Hasetsu and the three girls. And his family, with their fierce protectiveness over the onsen, fighting to preserve the roots of their heritage. He thought perhaps he could channel his pride in them.

But somehow, when he tried to do so, it hadn’t felt right. As though this path into himself was cut short right at the edge of his inner self, which made him realize that as close as they were to his heart, he’d always kept them at a slight distance, and they’d always respected his privacy.

As he delved deeper, he realized that the only person who’d come close to seeing his inner self had been Victor. Gradually over the weeks, and then in a flood that had come bursting out during a rare vulnerable moment when he’d thought everything they had would end because he hadn’t reached out to Victor. And something told him Victor was the way in.

The strange surge of confidence he had around Victor. The deep sense of calmness that Victor had instilled with only a few words and a gentle touch. The urgent need to keep Victor’s eyes transfixed on him and him alone, if only for a few moments. The fleeting surety when Victor seemed to share the joy he felt at simply being together.

But he could find no pride in this relationship. Because everything about it was illicit and hidden.

Just as he’d promised Georgi, Yuuri had gone through the events in Victor’s schedule with Darlene, removing everything to do with the Russian project. Darlene had even gone out of her way to make sure that Mila would be available for everything.

That had left them with only a handful of events with the Nippon Club, and perhaps anything else that involved the Japan project in the future. Even then, he wasn’t sure if they should keep up the charade anymore, since it could put the Japan project at risk.

His heart had clenched uncomfortably at the sad remains of their time together. All that was truly left was his offer to Victor, come back to me. And Victor had come a few times to the apartment that week, but only at times when the lobby would be deserted and Al the doorman would be snoozing lightly in his chair. Yuuri had wondered whether this had been coincidental or intentional on Victor’s part, and then had felt ashamed for even thinking about it. Victor had the right to be cautious.

All this secrecy made him feel as though there was no room for any part of their relationship to grow. They had been shoved around by the people who seemed to dominate Victor’s world, until they were forced into this confined space, where they were constantly on edge and looking behind their backs. How could there be a relationship in this space? Whatever they had would eventually wither and die in the shadows.

And that thought awoke an anger in Yuuri that he didn’t know he had. It was like a burning in his chest that spread to the ends of his hands and feet, driving away the chill in the practice room.

How dare they dictate our lives? he thought with a simmering rage, and the feeling had gradually morphed into a fierce certainty. Very well. If he and Victor were not welcomed here, then they would go elsewhere. He would offer Victor _his_ world instead, and everything that went with it. His friends, his family, his performances, even the silly house parties that Phichit liked to throw. Everything.

It wasn’t much compared to what Victor had, but at least they would be accepted and left alone. They would have space. And it was far better than having nothing.

Coming to a resolution, he picked himself up off the floor and reached for his rucksack to rummage for his phone.

**Hi Victor, would you like to stop by the school for lunch tomorrow? Around 1?** 20:32

His heart leapt when his phone went off almost immediately after he’d sent his message.

**That sounds wonderful :D Should I meet you at the entrance?** 20:32

 

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Yuuri felt he could listen to the carefree chatter the entire day. Victor had greeted him at the entrance of the school with a thorough kiss, his arms enveloping Yuuri in a possessive embrace, as though he was slowly savoring their newfound freedom. They’d held hands as Yuuri showed him around the school, the practice rooms, the studios, even sneaking into one of the theatres where the drama seniors were rehearsing.

They’d eventually ended up at the cafeteria, where Victor had stared around wide-eyed with glee at the usual throng of hungry students, pointing out the oddity of the skin-tight practice clothes that some of the dancers were still wearing, turning his head excitedly to find the source of the aria that someone had begun to belt out, laughing merrily when they overheard a heated debate over the crude innuendos that plagued Shakespeare’s comedies.

Yuuri hadn’t expected Victor to emanate such a childlike delight at something he’d seen nearly every day over the last four years. He realized how strange their little bubble must seem to the outside world, as a group of musicians settled into a nearby table, no one batting an eyelid when extra chairs were pulled up for their precious instruments.

Yuuri had bought them lunch with his student card, and they were wandering around the cafeteria with their trays looking for an empty table, when they heard Phichit call out loudly, “Yuuri, over here.” And then, in a more excited tone, “Oh, Victor! You’re here too!”

As they approached the small group of dancers, Yuuri could see Phichit trying to contain his joy at the implications of Victor’s presence at the school, and next to him Seung Gil had been staring with open-mouthed surprise, abandoning his usual cool collectedness. Yuuri froze before he reached the table, suddenly aware that he didn’t know how to introduce Victor to the others. But before he could wrap his mind around the problem, Victor had cheerfully announced, “Hi, I’m Victor. Yuuri’s boyfriend.”

Phichit had clasped his hand over his mouth, Seung Gil’s jaw had dropped further, and Yuuri could hear the rushing of blood in his ears. Only Richardo had seemed unaffected, saying nonchalantly with his chin resting on his hand, “ _Finally_. I knew something was up,” and he gave Yuuri a lusty wink that could rival Chris’.

Victor laughed heartily as they’d joined the table, with Yuuri still reeling from their newly declared status, his heart thumping wildly. He could barely hear the animated conversation that Victor had struck up with his friends. Something about Victor’s job, and surprisingly, he’d answered truthfully.

They had spent so much time in secrecy, their relationship constantly in a tangle over what it was and what it would be. Constantly bogged down by disapproval and complications. But here, in Yuuri’s world, it was so simple. Victor was his boyfriend. What else could he be? His friends had already brought him into the fold. And he had no doubt that his family would do the same.

When he’d finally tuned back into the conversation, Victor was presenting a dramatic rendition of how Yuuri had swooped in from the heavens to save his Japan project, which had prompted Yuuri to interject quickly, “Oh no, no, no. That’s not how it was,” his face red with embarrassment, as he added “They were lucky I didn’t lose them the project altogether.”

“Oh, Yuuri,” Victor gave a helpless laugh, “Without your help, we would’ve made a terrible impression on the Fukudas. I mean, the gift we were going to give them alone...” then his eyes widened and he exclaimed, “I’ve not told you, have I?” Yuuri shook his head automatically, and Victor’ face broke into a dazzling smile that made his eyes crinkle, “The Fukuda deal is definitely moving forward. So, they’re expanding the Japan team and increasing our budget. Oh and they’ve assigned Jason to us permanently. You know, the guy you had to fill in for. He’ll be flying out to a meeting in Japan with a few juniors next week.”

Yuuri felt as if his heart would burst, from relief, from wonder, and mostly from the sheer happiness that was radiating from Victor’s face. He reached forward to clasp Victor’s hand tightly in his, and said breathlessly, “I’m so glad about this, Victor. Congratulations.” Victor had beamed back at him, and Yuuri could almost feel Victor’s desperate pride at overcoming so many odds to get to this impossible stage.

When they broke off their intense moment of shared joy, Yuuri realized that Seung Gil had been looking at them with an odd expression on his face with his eyes narrowed, looking as though his mind was trying to resist an idea that refused to go away, but he’d quickly looked away when he’d caught Yuuri staring at him.

After lunch, they had parted with another extended display of public affection at the same spot near the entrance. Yuuri watched Victor’s departing back, his trench coat billowing freely in the wind as he walked back to the office. And one thought had cut through the muddle of emotions, Victor Nikiforov was now his boyfriend.  

 

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Hmmm…. thought Yuuri, as he listened to the third demo that Cecilia was playing on her phone. The music echoing through the apartment as they sat on the couch. Although it did fit the current choreography, there was something not quite...

As he struggled to pinpoint a reason for not liking yet another piece, other than ‘It doesn’t feel right’, Cecilia said, “Yeah...I know what you mean.”

Yuuri sat up in surprise at her unprompted reply, and then realized that he had subconsciously vocalized his doubts. “I’m sorry, Cecilia. I don’t know why I’m being so picky,” he said dejectedly.

“No, no,” she replied, waving away his apology, “I feel the same way. Besides, if my name is going to be plastered all over this piece, I want it to be good too,” she said with a reassuring smile. Yuuri smiled back, feeling glad that he wasn’t in this alone.

Perhaps this was yet another wrong approach, maybe it was time for them to settle on a name after all. They’d bounced around a few ideas initially, but then decided to experiment with a more avant-garde approach, by letting the dance and music flow with their emotions before shaping it into something more coherent. And they’d both began to explore what the final year of Juilliard had meant to them from pure emotions.

_Something_ had taken shape eventually, but it really needed a definite, solid form now. A name.

“Maybe we should try naming the piece again?” Yuuri suggested tentatively.

Cecilia had straightened up immediately, “Great idea, at least we’ll have some kind of direction!”

They went right back to the roots of this piece, and began naming the emotions that had surfaced as they neared the end of their final year, what they felt about the great unknown that laid ahead, and more importantly what had carried them through the ordeal that was Juilliard.

“I mean...why didn’t we all just give up halfway and just go home?” asked Cecilia, frowning slightly at the wall, “It was awful at times. I remember not wanting to come back after my first winter break. I didn’t leave my room for three days, only for supplies. Eventually, my parents had to promise that I could quit if I wanted to after my first year,” and she gave a small smirk, “And now look at me, I’m back even before the semester starts.”

Yuuri laughed, he knew the feeling. They were all masochists here, each of them slowly embracing the rigorous demands of their artform, as they were put through hours and hours of endless lessons, practices, rehearsals, and criticisms. And they had all come back for more. Why?

“Maybe because we’re all passionate about what we do?” he ventured, but the idea still seemed slightly hollow.

Cecilia pursed her lips, “Passion,” she said, trying out the word, and her frown deepened, “I’m not sure if passion is enough. I mean, _one-night stands_ can have passion and you don’t see _those_ lasting very long.”

Yuuri chuckled at the turn the conversation had taken, “Then maybe we should think about the opposite of a one-night stand and see what we get,” which made Cecilia snigger in reply.

But then his mind began turning to the couples he knew who had stayed together despite their circumstances. There were his parents, who had weathered all the storms that life had thrown at them over more than three decades of marriage. There were Yuuko and Takeshi, who had given up the prospects of glamorous careers for their unexpected bundles of joy. And if he wanted to be thorough, there was his relationship with Victor, which had been nothing but rocky right from the start.

As he surveyed the spectrum of relationships that had formed in his mind, he felt a shift in his worldview, and suddenly he could see what they had been missing. It had been so clear, so very simple, this feeling that they’d been grappling with. This deep and profound sense of strength that had gently pushed them forward, even through the necessary pain, until they had emerged, transformed into something better. This feeling that had pervaded all these relationships and their journey as artists. It had a name after all.

He gave a helpless laugh, and said with a small smile, “Love.”

Cecilia gave him a puzzled look, and he pressed on, “It’s because we love what we do. And we are surrounded by people who love us. That’s how we keep going until we get to the end.”

Yuuri could see the understanding dawn on Cecilia’s face, as all the pieces of the puzzle began falling into place. “Oh my goodness, I can feel goosebumps,” she said slowly, “That’s it, isn’t it? That’s going to be the name,” and her dawning realization was replaced by a mad glint, her eyes darting around as she scanned through possibilities that only her mind could see. Yuuri smiled when he recognized that look, knowing that at this point, nothing existed in the world except the music that was bursting to be released.

She rose quickly  from the couch, her hand grabbing uselessly for her bag, her feet already taking her towards the door, “I think I can most definitely work with that. Yes, yes, it all fits. _It all fits._ I think I know how to change this now. If I make this- yes. And then change that-” She had been halfway out the door, with Yuuri following in amused silence, when she finally remembered to say, “See you next week, Yuuri! I need to work on this now.“ And he’d heard the click of the closing door before he could reply.

He stared at the closed door as he tried out the word in his mind again, and marveled at everything it entailed.

The door opened a few moments later to reveal Victor’s amused face as he said, “Was that your friend Cecilia I saw running down the corridor?”

Yuuri smiled at Victor, as he thought, Yes, if this feeling had a name, it would be called love.

 

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Yuuri woke up alone in the apartment for the first time in several days, but he couldn’t help a small smile forming on his lips as he threw back the covers, eager to the start the full weekend ahead.

It had only been two weeks since Yuuri had first asked Victor to lunch, and their relationship had blossomed rapidly like a sun-starved seedling in the light.

Darlene had emailed him an attachment soon after their first lunch together, with only one line that said, “Thought you might find this interesting”. It turned out to be an updated schedule with new highlights labelled ‘Most definitely free’ or ‘Possibly free’. Yuuri had laughed out loud at Darlene’s subtle meddling, and made sure he’d asked Victor to lunch again on those days.

To his amazement, Victor had accepted his invitation every single time, and had quickly gained popularity among Yuuri’s friends by bringing his own lavish additions to the lunches. In fact, what had begun as a nice box of chocolate truffles that tasted more expensive than they looked, had eventually escalated to a small tray of fresh oysters on ice. Yuuri remembered looking on in mortification as Victor happily distributed the oysters around the table and gave suggestions on how best to eat them, to much gawping from the other tables in the cafeteria.

Some time during those two weeks, they’d gone ballroom dancing again. But this time it was at the student-run ballroom and latin dance society, where Victor had the time of his life trying to learn the cha-cha, and then had proceeded to be swept around the room during the social dance afterwards, almost giddy with laughter.

On another night, Phichit had invited them to one of his famous home-cooked Thai dinners, and they’d agreed to meet up before going over together. To Yuuri’s horror, Victor had decided to invite Fukuda Kenji, and they all had to bear terrified witness at the most intense interaction that had ever taken place across the dinner table, as Seung Gil glared at this unwelcome intrusion, shattering all his rules for emotional detachment. Things may have ended well though, because Seung Gil had walked Kenji to the apartment lobby on his own after dinner, leaving the flat abuzz with gossip.

Even now, Yuuri still felt a hitch in his breath whenever he remembered the unexpected sight of Victor looking in from the small window of the practice room. They’d no plans that evening and Victor was supposed to be working late. But there he had been waiting contentedly outside the practice room, and Yuuri hadn’t been sure how long he’d been standing there. But he looked as though that he would be content to remain as he was for a few more hours. When Yuuri had rushed to ask him why he was here, he’d simply said, I missed you.

Nearly every night over the past two weeks, Yuuri would feel the gentle dip of the bed as Victor crawled under the covers next to him, and he would feel strong arms drawing him into a protective embrace. It wasn’t an ideal routine, because Victor usually worked late or had a social event, and Yuuri tended to go to bed early during term time, but they’d wake up together most days.

Yuuri still shuddered from the memory of waking up, more than once, to the feeling of Victor’s eager mouth wrapped around the tip of his growing hardness, and all his barely conscious mind could do was groan in helpless pleasure, his fingers entangled in the strands of silver hair. His protests had grown weaker when he realized Victor derived as much pleasure from this as he did. Twice, they’d had the time for their morning escapades to spillover into sex, and he still felt faint every time he revisited the intense memory of being filled and connected.

He sat at the table with two slices of toast, not wanting to overload his system before the morning lesson with Lilia. He was almost certain that they were making progress with the Firebird, mainly because Lilia hadn’t questioned him further about the source of his emotions, and only picked on his technical skills. But also because he was aware that a deep pride had begun seeping into his performance, a pride that stemmed from his belief that he had provided a safe space for their relationship to thrive, and he was beginning to see Victor’s true self emerge.

He smiled when he heard the familiar click of the door and a bright voice calling out, “Yuuri!”

 

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The day had turned out to be a day of surprises, and by the afternoon Yuuri wasn’t sure he could handle any more.

When Victor had walked in through the door this morning, all Yuuri had expected was a quick hello and maybe an update on how the party at the Nikiforov mansion went last night. What he hadn’t banked on happening was being leapt on and pushed to the ground by a large fluffy poodle that began barking excitedly at him.

“Makkachin!” Yuuri had exclaimed on the ground, and Victor had dropped a heavy bag full of poodle supplies next to them, saying happily, “Oh good, he remembers you.”

Yuuri hadn’t been sure who the comment was directed at, and he absent-mindedly scratched Makkachin behind the ears, as he stared at the poodle in disbelief.

“Victor, what is Makkachin doing here?” he’d asked uncertainly.

Victor had smiled widely and replied, “Well, I’ll be spending more time here than at the mansion, and you seemed to like Makkachin, so I thought it would be nicer if he came back with me this time. I think he misses the apartment. Do you mind?”

Yuuri laughed helplessly at the endearing but very presumptuous, if not downright intrusive, gesture. It was a new side to Victor that he was still getting used to. An unguarded, impulsive, flamboyant Victor that had gradually appeared as they grew closer. Although Yuuri would’ve liked some reassurance that this change was normal, he would gladly deal with any surprises than go back to the careful facade that Victor used to put on.

“No, Victor. I don’t mind at all,” he replied with a smile.

Victor had clasped his hands together in excitement and exclaimed, “Excellent! Darlene has contacted our old dog-sitter, so you won’t have to worry about anything. I’ve got the poodle supplies here. And the dog-sitter will get his usual food and shampoo and things. Are we ready to go?“

After getting rid of as much poodle fur as possible, Victor had dropped him off at Lilia’s studio before heading to the office for a few hours. Yuuri had entered the studio hoping that the familiar movements of ballet would help to adjust his emotions at suddenly having a dog in his life again. It was wonderful, of course, but it wasn’t a negligible change, and it hadn’t felt right for Makkachin to be entirely under the care of a dog-sitter, so Yuuri had begun worrying about the role he would play.

The lesson had helped, and he’d felt his Firebird was probably the best so far. Lilia hadn’t confirmed it in those words, but she had said, “I think we’re ready for your Prince Ivan to join us next lesson.” Which meant they could shift their focus away from pride and to the ensuing struggle.

After that, she had dropped the bombshell, “I will be coming to your studio performance next week, with a guest, who’s an old friend of mine.”

Yuuri’s jaw had fallen open. It was one thing to dance in the privacy of lessons and practices. It was an entirely different thing to perform in front of an audience, no matter how small. Plus, there were already rumors that Yuuri had been receiving lessons from Lilia Baranovskaya, her presence there would confirm those rumors, and the expectations of the audience would only soar.

He was trying to quell the rising panic by taking deep breaths, and he’d barely pushed the door open, when it had connected with a loud thud to something behind it, followed by an angry, “Watch where you swing that thing, stupid katsudon!” and a small blond figure covering his nose in pain.

Yuuri had apologised before realising that since he’d barely used any force, the figure must have been standing with his face right up against the small window of the studio door before Yuuri opened it. And then the figure, the voice and the nickname all fell into place.

“Aren’t you Yurio from the Summer Intensive last year?” Yuuri asked in shock, remembering the angry blond teenager from the Juilliard summer camp, who had constantly been glaring at him. Possibly because the other camp counselors had changed his name from Yuri to Yurio to avoid confusion with Yuuri. He had retaliated by calling Yuuri katsudon instead, from when they’d named their favorite food during the ice breakers.

“Stop calling me that! And I think you broke my nose,” Yurio had replied in his usual agitated voice.

Yuuri tried to peer under the covered nose, but when he saw no bruising or swelling, he’d said, “I’m sorry about that. Your nose looks fine, but you should tell someone if it still feels funny after a while. Why were you so close to the door?”

To his surprise, Yurio had blushed a deep crimson and had replied angrily, “I was- I was just checking if Lilia was done with you. I wanted to see her.”  But instead of pushing past Yuuri to get to the studio, Yurio had stormed off in the other direction, which had left Yuuri truly baffled.

By lunchtime, Yuuri was a mixed bag of bewilderment at having a large poodle in his house, worry at having Lilia attend his studio performance, and befuddlement at Yurio’s odd behavior and unexpected reappearance in his life.

He entered the conference room of a hotel near Victor’s office, where there was a buffet lunch for the Japan team. Victor had said there was something exciting they would be announcing and he wanted Yuuri to be there. But before he could find Victor, he’d been greeted enthusiastically by the juniors he’d worked with for a few days, and they’d stopped to recount their shared ordeal with the Fukuda people to the newer members of the team.

He finally spotted Victor at the far end of the room, deep in a conversation with someone. Victor had waved at him and gestured that he’d be there in a few moments. But before Yuuri could wander off to hide in a quiet corner, he saw Chris sauntering towards him and he smiled.

“Hello, Yuuri. You look like you need a break. What’s Victor done now?” he said in mock exasperation.

Yuuri laughed appreciatively and replied, “Nothing too bad.”

But Chris had fixed him a with skeptical look until Yuuri relented and said, “He brought Makkachin back to the apartment this morning.”

Chris lifted an eyebrow, “Without warning?”

Yuuri shook his head helplessly.

“Anything else?”

“He announced that he was my boyfriend at the cafeteria two weeks ago, also without warning.”

“With a loudspeaker?” Chris asked suspiciously.

“What? Oh no, no, just to my friends. At the table. And he treated them to fresh oysters on ice.”

Chris had laughed loudly at the last comment.

And Yuuri decided to ask the question that had been worrying him slightly, “Is this...normal for Victor? It’s very different.”

Chris smiled warmly at him and said, “Victor only acts this way when he feels safe around someone.”

Yuuri instantly felt a burning glow in his heart and looked speechlessly at Chris, not daring to believe that what he’d hoped for was actually true, that Victor had begun to show his true self, and not just another facade.

“Don’t be too happy about that. He can be a handful,” Chris said with a warning look, “Did you know that the first time we met you at the brunch was also when we first found out that the engagement will be postponed? It was supposed to be announced during the Christmas party.”

Yuuri’s eyes widened in shock. That was impossible. Chris and Mila had seemed so calm about it. Though it did explain Georgi’s simmering anger throughout the brunch. Come to think of it, it also explained the constant stream of irate warhorses cornering Victor during the Christmas party.

“Without warning?” Yuuri had asked in disbelief, and received an earnest nod.

Yuuri had always assumed that the engagement had been postponed because of some grand scheme in the company. But if all Chris had said was true, then it meant that Victor had set everything in motion for Yuuri. Right from the start, it had all been for him. And this was the largest surprise he’s had today.

Then, Chris had topped it with another one.

“At least we’re not alone in this. Yakov, the only company warhorse who’s ‘young at heart’, he gets it too. Victor wouldn’t stop badgering him until he showed his ex-wife a video of one of your performances.”

“His ex-wife?” asked Yuuri in confusion.

“Yes, Lilia Baranovskaya. You could see the steam coming out of his ears the day he finally caved and rang her. I hear you’ve been accepted?”

Yuuri nodded mutely.

Victor began clinking his glass to get everyone’s attention, then announced happily that the deal with the Fukuda company was official and they could now begin the groundwork for the logistics.

The room had erupted in cheers and applause, many coming up to shake Victor’s hand, and he had returned the courtesy, but his gaze always returned to Yuuri, and Yuuri felt the last his apprehension fall away. Let him turn my world upside down, he thought, as he savoured Victor’s growing trust in him.

 

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Yuuri had spent the week coming up to his studio performance trying not to panic. He forced himself not to think about the higher expectations of his classmates when they saw Lilia in the audience. He blocked out all thoughts that a mediocre performance would mean Lilia’s and Victor’s efforts on him would all be wasted. He told himself that Victor trusted him to do his best and that would be enough to give him the confidence he needed to perform. And each time he repeated that to himself, he felt the panic ebb away.

As they neared the date, the constant battle with these negative thoughts had meant that he hadn’t been able to sleep adequately for two days before the performance, and dark circles had begun to appear under his eyes. But he could handle this. This anxiety wasn’t new. He’d learnt to deal with it since his first year. And he will only need Victor’s reassuring presence on the day to pull him through. But then he began to feel growing doubt, when Victor kept darting nervous glances at his tired eyes.

On the evening of the performance, Victor had begun a fussing behavior that had only served to compound Yuuri’s anxiety. All Yuuri wanted was for Victor to hold his hand or squeeze his shoulder. The firm contact alone would be enough for him to feel Victor’s trust in him. But Victor had only looked worriedly at his exhausted eyes, got him some food, and made him nap before the performance. Yuuri had stayed awake throughout, and tried to repress his irrational fears, telling himself that Victor was just worried, that he wasn’t fussing like this because he was afraid Yuuri would fail.

But Victor’s fussing had continued until they were behind the curtains of the stage, and Yuuri had felt increasingly as though Victor didn’t believe Yuuri knew what he was doing. He began feeding off the nervous energy coming from Victor, and started to seriously doubt his ability to perform. He just needed Victor to say something reassuring to him, not pace around and offer him breathing or relaxation techniques. It was starting to make him lose track about what he needed.

Then, Yuuri’s panic had spiralled completely out of control when he’d seen Lilia walk in with an equally stern-looking friend, and students beginning to fawn over her. His tight clamp over his anxiety had shattered, and his mind was paralyzed, fixated only on the soaring expectations of the audience and the enormous urge to escape. Yuuri could feel his chest heaving as his ragged breath came in short gasps, the studio performances were about to start in mere minutes. His face was hidden in his hands, as he sat in a dark corner backstage, trying hard to resist the overwhelming panic, and to keep his tears from falling.

Richardo was looking at him in deep concern. Victor was by his side, on the brink of panicking himself, as he tried everything he could, bringing him water, finding him a quiet corner, shooing away anyone who came too close, asking if he wanted some anxiety meds, asking if he should find one of his teachers, or Phichit, or even Lilia.

But Yuuri’s mind wasn’t working, he knew he needed something but he couldn’t think clearly enough to find the words for what it was. He kept shaking his head, nothing sounded right. He wanted the expectations to go away, he didn’t want this crushing fear of messing up the dance, which will embarrass Lilia and waste everything that Victor had given him. He wanted these thoughts to disappear, and he knew that they could, but he didn’t know how.

Victor began to change his tactics, trying to comfort him with words. Saying that this was only an informal performance, and that it didn’t matter. Or that Yuuri should pretend the audience was naked and that’s how public speakers calmed themselves.

He’d eventually said, “Look Yuuri, if you’re worried that Lilia will be offended if you perform badly, then the worst that can happen is that she’ll stop teaching you.”

And Yuuri had snapped, his mind running away with the fear, focusing on all the wrong parts of what Victor had said. Does this mean Victor thinks he would perform badly? Was he expecting it? Had he already planned what he wanted to say to Lilia if Yuuri had failed?

All the while, tears had broken freely through his barriers and he’d sobbed uncontrollably into his costume. Victor had asked in desperation, “Yuuri, _Please_ , tell me what I can do to help.”

And through the flood of tears, Yuuri suddenly remembered what he needed, and cried out in frustration, “I don’t need you to do anything. I just need you. You just need to be here.”

“But I _am_ here,” Victor replied desperately, both hands grasping Yuuri firmly by his shoulders.

The firm reassuring grip on his shoulders seemed to stem the flow of tears and his panic seemed to ebb away. He focused on Victor’s touch and gradually calmed down enough to survey the ragged state that the both of them were in.

It now seemed ridiculous how quickly everything had spun out of control.

He took a few deep breaths and then looked at Victor steadily. He wanted to say, all this fussing, did you not trust me enough to know what I should do in my own world?

But he knew that up until this point, Victor had only ever seen the insecurities he felt about his dance, never the calm confidence that laid beneath the doubts. So now he needed to show Victor that he knew what he was doing. That whatever had persuaded Lilia to accept him as a student would not go away just because he was tired or nervous. His training had taught him to deal with that. His dance could speak for itself, and he was confident of that.

He gave Victor a gentle kiss on the cheek and pulled away. Then, he walked steadily to take up his position in the wings, with Richardo behind him, still in shocked silence at the entire exchange.

When he’d finally emerged from the darkness and into the bright lights of the stage, he could feel the fierce pride of the Firebird radiating through his skin. For the first time in his life, he was sure of who he was, and of what he could do.

 

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There had been a blur of hugging and kissing at the end of the studio performances. Yuuri had blushed furiously when Victor had rushed out of the curtains with the flowers he’d prepared and had captured Yuuri’s lips in full view of the audience.

As the dancers were being congratulated at their performance, Lilia and her friend had walked up to them.

Yuuri waited with bated breath, not knowing what she would say. But instead of commenting on his performance, Lilia had turned to introduce the slender Japanese woman beside her, saying, “This is Saito Yukari, the Artistic Director of the Tokyo Ballet. Katsuki Yuuri and Victor Nikiforov.”

After the initial pleasantries, Saito Yukari directed her piercing gaze at Yuuri and said, “Katsuki-san, have you considered joining a ballet company after you graduate?”

Yuuri wondered where the question would lead and answered truthfully, “Yes, definitely, Saito-san. It’s a dream of mine to join a ballet company someday.”

Then, Saito Yukari had said, “The Tokyo Ballet will be having auditions for artists, by invitation only. I will be happy to send you an invitation if you are interested?”

Yuuri stared at her in wide-eyed wonder, and he heard a small gasp escape from Victor’s lips. When he found he could speak again, he said breathlessly, “I would be honoured.”

Saito Yukari had smiled slightly, and said, “The auditions will held in Tokyo around early March. I believe one of the dates should coincide with your spring vacation. The invitation will include instructions on applying.”

When Lilia and Yukari had left the theater,  Victor grasped his hand tightly and congratulated him with twinkling eyes, his expression matching the excitement and amazement in Yuuri’s. Then, he had led Yuuri around, telling all of Yuuri’s friends that he could find in the theater about what had just happened, and Yuuri followed him like a stunned animal. More hugging and screaming ensued, with Phichit insisting that everyone should go out for drinks tonight, and Victor happily saying drinks were on him.

They’d ended in a club nearby and after several rounds of free drinks, courtesy of Victor, they began to put all the other clubgoers to shame with their actual dance moves. As they became progressively drunker, Phichit began rounding up everyone who had been taking some pole-dancing lessons, and started a rowdy dance battle around a convenient pole at one end of the club. Never had Yuuri regretted knowing a skill so much before, because Phichit had cheerfully pushed him forward as their small circle began chanting and catcalling. Yuuri could clearly hear Victor’s voice in the mix, and he’d given in. He grabbed the pole in his hand and started with a simple spin, with one knee hooked around the pole, then began pulling out all the tricks he knew, as he shifted his weight from his arm to his thighs, his torso inverting and spinning, his core straining to support the crazy positions. By the third time he’d slipped off the pole and hit the floor, Yuuri had batted off his friends and dragged Victor away from the group to collapse in a sofa nearby, with Victor still breathless from laughing.

“Please let that be the first and last time you see that,” groaned Yuuri, draping his arm over his eyes.

“What do you mean?” asked Victor, and Yuuri glanced at him, “That’s not the first time I’ve seen you pole-dancing.”

Yuuri shot up and gawped at Victor, “When have I-?”

“When we first met. At the cocktail party. Do you mean you don’t remember _any_ of it?”

And Yuuri fell back into the sofa as he shook his head, absolutely mortified.  So, that’s where those bruises came from. Mixing alcohol with pole dancing was never a good idea.

“Chris had a portable pole in his car, for reasons we don’t dare to ask, and when your dancing became a bit frisky, he decided to bring it out. It was _very_ entertaining,” continued Victor, grinning and thoroughly enjoying his revelations.

Yuuri could only groan in horrified embarrassment. What possessed Victor to continue seeing him after that? He glanced up at Victor, but found that Victor was oddly silent.

He eventually looked back at Yuuri and said in a more serious voice, “I know you don’t remember anything after we left and I’m not sure if it’s useful if I tell you this,” he looked away, then continued after a moment of thought, “You broke down in the car and told me your entire situation. Everything. Your finances, your flat, your family’s onsen. You didn’t ask for money or anything, just vented a lot about not disappointing your family. When I went home, I looked you up, and I found a video of you dancing. And I thought it was worth it, so I decided to help. I certainly wasn’t expecting to--well, I mean, I wasn’t expecting all this,” he quickly gestured to the dancing students in the background and turned back to smile at Yuuri.

Yuuri had forgotten to breathe as Victor spoke. He hadn’t expected for his image of Victor to be shifted yet again. Everything, truly, everything had been done for Yuuri. Victor had risked his career and his family for Yuuri. Not even his initial assumption about why Victor had started the arrangement in the first place had been right. It hadn’t been Victor’s search for someone who would accept his circumstances. It had all started off as wanting to help Yuuri, and everything else had come later.

There could be no words, and Yuuri drew him in gently to capture his lips tenderly, cherishing the strong lines of his jaw and the curve of his high cheekbones.

They slipped away from the club, and back to the apartment, discarding their clothes as soon as the doors were closed, hungry for the touch of bare skin. They’d backed urgently into the bedroom until Victor’s knees had hit the bed, and Yuuri pushed him firmly onto his back.

Victor had given him so much, he’d picked up the pieces of Yuuri’s life and then opened up a path to Yuuri’s dreams. And Yuuri needed to give something back. Even if it’s just a sliver of what he’d received.

He left a trail of kisses down the side of Victor’s neck, slowly exploring the contours of his collarbone, all the while gently rolling his hips, and heard the quickened pace of Victor’s breath. He dragged his tongue teasingly across one nipple, and nipped the other playfully, causing Victor to hiss slightly.

He slowed his pace as his kisses got lower, and ran his fingers lightly across Victor’s inner thighs, always coming enticingly close to their goal but never close enough. When his kisses reached the base of Victor’s twitching cock, he’d avoided touching it and continued down to the balls instead, licking and sucking them in turn, until Victor had gasped his name. Then his hand had continued massaging the balls as his mouth made the slow journey up the shaft. Victor breathing was heavy and desperate now, and Yuuri had to pin down his right arm before he could touch himself.

He slowly licked the base of the tip and blew small breath of hot air over the tip, drawing out a whimper from Victor, before engulfing it in his mouth, sucking with more fervour than before. Victor had groaned loudly at the change of pace, and Yuuri began moving his mouth up and down the shaft, taking in as much as he could until he felt the tip of Victor’s cock hit the back of his throat.

He kept up his fervent sucking and continued to massage the balls. Until his saliva-coated fingers had accidentally brushed past Victor’s entrance, which had sent a shiver down his body as his groans became louder. Inspiration struck, and Yuuri released Victor’s cock for a brief moment to coat his fingers with saliva and he resumed his attack, as he pressed one slick finger against Victor’s entrance and pushed in gently.

Victor’s moaned helplessly at the intrusion and dug his fingers into Yuuri’s hair. Yuuri began thrusting his finger into Victor until he found an angle that turned Victor’s moans into cries of pleasure interjected by his name, all the while trying to keep up the constant pressure on Victor’s cock. When he felt that Victor was nearing the edge, he pushed in another finger and cupped the balls tightly, his mouth focusing on the tip. Victor’s body shuddered almost violently as he came, and Yuuri imitated the intense sucking that Victor had given him at the end, as his tongue was coated in the thick, bitter-salty fluid, and his fingers were clenched tightly by the ring of muscle.

He finally felt Victor relax, his eyes still shut and his hand falling limply to his side. Yuuri withdrew his fingers and padded quickly to the bathroom to clean up, not wanting to leave Victor alone for too long.

He gently coaxed a dazed Victor under the covers, who then draped himself limply across Yuuri’s chest. Yuuri hugged him close, as he began drifting off to sleep, when a realisation brought him back to full consciousness.

If he did get into the Tokyo Ballet and moved to Tokyo, what would they do?

His mind ran through the possible scenarios, and each had involved one of them giving up their dreams or both of them giving up the relationship.

He had been so focused on finding a way out of the oppressive space where Victor was forced to choose between career and relationship, that he hadn't noticed where his own footsteps were leading them. He tried desperately to ignore the fact that at some point down the road, Yuuri may end up being the one who would draw a veil over this precious space they'd just found.

He drew Victor into a tighter embrace. Forcing himself to focus on the here and now. They shared this point in time and space, and that should be enough.

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very cute [ fanart ](https://weberina.tumblr.com/post/162113842551/haha-the-first-fanart-for-my-fic-p-drawn-n)of Victor and Yuuri by my sister for the first chapter.  
> I'm on [ Tumblr ](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/weberina)


	8. The Holiday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for waiting!! And thanks for all your well wishes for my test XD  
> Hope you like this chapter :D :D :D  
> There's quite a lot of Japanese in this chapter, but all are common phrases. I've included a list at the bottom just in case!  
> As usual beta'd by my very helpful sister!

 

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Victor collapsed on the sofa in his office, swinging his long legs over the cushions and draping his arm over eyes to block out the harsh lights of the office.

It was less than 24 hours until their flight to Japan, and he knew he was deliberately putting off the last task that stood in the way of their upcoming trip.

Just five minutes, he thought wistfully, he'd earned it after the intense three weeks he'd had.

It all started after the jaw-dropping news delivered by Lilia’s friend, Saito Yukari, from the Tokyo Ballet. An audition for a spot as an Artist in the Tokyo Ballet. A golden ticket to a solid and prestigious career. And a chance for Yuuri to achieve his dream of joining a ballet company.

Never in Victor’s wildest dreams had he imagined that his simple introduction of Yuuri to Lilia would lead to such an outcome. Of course, he wasn’t surprised that Lilia would be impressed by Yuuri, but this was just _way_ beyond anything he could’ve envisaged.

Since Yukari had mentioned that one of the audition dates should coincide with Yuuri’s spring break, Victor had immediately set Darlene on the task of making preliminary plans for the trip. He’d decided early on that they should spend one full week in Japan, and all of Darlene’s research had been based on this assumption. But Victor had held off all discussions about the trip when Yuuri was frantically trying to gather all the materials needed for a formal application, the process seeming much more daunting and complicated than Yukari had let on when they met.

Victor watched from the sidelines, trying not to let his worry show, as Yuuri filled in the forms and agonized over the audition tapes. There was no question about the ballet component, he would send the recording of his studio performance. But he had a hard time choosing the modern dance piece. In the end, Victor had sat down with him to look through all of his past performances to help him decide.

The decision turned out to be an easy one for Victor, because there was a complete recording of the performance he’d found online more than two months ago. It was a dark and mesmerising, almost seductive, dance that had Yuuri contorting his body in impossible but beautiful poses, his movements rife with the tensions of an underlying despair. The full recording was much more breathtaking than Victor thought was possible, and had sent chills up his spine. It was the perfect juxtaposition to the Firebird, and there was no room for doubt when he pointed to the video and said, “This one.”

Once the application was sent off, Yuuri began his preparations for the audition itself. He had to present the performances in the audition tapes, and also prepare two set pieces specified by the panel. Lilia had doubled the length and intensity of their lessons, and Yuuri had approached one of his modern dance teachers to help him with the modern dance pieces after class.

This new insane schedule meant that Victor often came home to find Yuuri passed out on the couch from exhaustion with Makkachin draped across his legs. The sight of them both snoozing and drooling slightly always made him smile. It was a good thing really, since it left Yuuri with no time to brood over the application or the audition, and Victor had the merry task of coaxing a half conscious Yuuri into bed.

It wasn't until a week later that Victor received a message from Yuuri, saying that he'd finally received written confirmation of the exact date. Victor had immediately rushed back to the apartment with Darlene’s research in hand to confirm all the details of their trip. They would first spend a few days in Hasetsu before going to Tokyo the day before the audition, and then return on the evening of the audition to spend another two more days in Hasetsu before flying back in time for the start of classes. Victor had made sure that Yuuri would be able to spend as much time as possible with his family when they were in Japan.

He remembered opening the apartment door to see the look of obvious relief etched on Yuuri's face at having his application accepted. But Yuuri’s expression gradually morphed into surprise and confusion as Victor explained the rough outline of the plan that Darlene had put together.

When Victor finished describing their trip, Yuuri had looked at him in disbelief and eventually asked in a hesitant voice, “Are you coming as well, Victor?”

There had been a sinking feeling in his stomach at the realization that he hadn’t thought to ask whether Yuuri wanted him to go to Japan, or considered the fact that Yuuri might be uncomfortable with having to explain who Victor was to his family. He silently berated himself for being so presumptuous and tried to suppress the rising disappointment in his chest, as he replied with a slight blush, “Sorry, I shouldn't have assumed. I don't have to go if you don't want me to.”

To his surprise, Yuuri had replied in a panic, “Ah, no! That's not what I- I didn't- I mean- Don't you have to work?”

Relief had washed over him as his fears dissipated, and he had grinned broadly at Yuuri, “I'll make sure I don't,” and before Yuuri could protest, he added, “Besides, I need a holiday. Let me take care of everything.” The radiant smile he received in return was enough to firm his resolve to let nothing interrupt their trip.

Easier said than done, he thought wearily, as he massaged his temples. He’d thought that a little under two weeks would be more than enough to tie up any loose ends before they went away. Boy, was he wrong. It turned out to be much more complicated than he’d envisaged. Not in the least because he realized that he’d never done it before.

It sounded ridiculous, but in the six years he’d been working for his father’s company, he’d never taken more than three or four days off, and even then he was intermittently available to anyone who needed him. It was a realization that brought home to him just how similar he was to his father. Vladimir Nikiforov never took holidays. At least, not since Victor was born.

This meant that when Victor had sent out the mass email saying he’ll be “absent from the office and unreachable by any form of communication for one week”, he hadn’t been prepared for the onslaught of frantic replies.

He hadn’t realized just how frequently everyone in both his teams came directly to him even for the most minor of issues, and Victor had taken the opportunity to push them gently but firmly towards the appropriate avenues, making it clear that Victor shouldn’t be the first port of call.

There was also the constant stream of major decisions that usually found their way to his desk and still needed to be made when he was away, all of which needed to be diverted to senior members of the team. While specific issues were relatively straightforward, marketing stuff to Chris, logistics stuff to Mila etc., issues that were related to the general direction of the project, i.e. most definitely under his domain, were much trickier.

But Victor was adamant that they should come up with an actual solution, rather than fall back on the quick fix of contacting him. It took several rounds of seemingly endless discussions before they concluded that despite their wildly different approaches to almost any issue, Georgi seemed to offer the most far-sighted and inclusive solutions in the team, and so Victor had delegated most of the leadership decisions to him.

Despite the heavy workload, everything else had paled in comparison to the task of telling his father about the trip. Technically, he didn't have to. He was sufficiently senior in the company not to need approval for any holidays he took. But it was coming close to the announcement of his engagement to Mila, and Victor had agreed that he wouldn't be seen in public with anyone else but her starting from March, which gave them one month to dispel any residual rumors about their relationship. So, he hadn’t been sure how his father would react to him running off to Japan with Yuuri at this crucial point in time.

Victor also couldn't risk his father finding out about the trip through office gossip, which would both anger and hurt him, but every scenario he'd played out in his mind hadn't ended well. So Victor had found excuse after excuse to delay it, until one day he was shocked into action by the most unexpected of sources. Little Yuri Plisetsky, the grandson of one of the company’s old timers, had cornered him at a banquet in the Plisetsky manor as he asked curtly, “Hey, old man. I heard you'll be going to Tokyo with the katsudon.”

It had taken Victor a few seconds to figure out what Yuri was talking about before he exclaimed, “You mean Katsuki Yuuri? How did you know?” The angry teen had blushed slightly and avoided Victor's gaze as he replied quickly, “I overheard someone.”

Fear had begun to sink in before Victor could puzzle out Yuri’s sudden shyness. If even Yuri, who hung around the younger employees occasionally, knew about his trip to Japan, then it wouldn't be long before the news reached his father. Yuri had stared curiously at Victor’s silence, then jammed his hands in his pockets with a frown and spat, “Make sure the katsudon doesn't mess up!” before stalking off.

Bewildered as Victor was by Yuri’s concern and seeming familiarity with Yuuri, he had more pressing matters at hand, and the urgency had made up his mind for him. He decided to approach Yakov for help, because Yakov would be able to find the right words and Vladimir would actually take them seriously.

To his surprise, Yakov had agreed without much resistance, and only said gruffly that no one should work the hours that Vladimir does, and before turning to leave, Yakov had added in a softer tone, “I’ll remind him that he used to disappear on holidays whenever he could when Irina was around.”

Hearing his mother’s name had sent a sharp pang in his chest, which left him with an odd mixture of relief and sadness. He knew about the trips that his parents used to take, when his father still had a reason to disappear for two weeks at a time to some unknown part of the world. Victor no longer doubted that his father would relent and listen to Yakov, and all Victor had to do was to avoid anything that would change his father’s mind about the trip, up to and including seeing and speaking to him.

Which left Victor with the last task he needed to accomplish before they were free to go.

There was a cursory knock on his office door before it was pushed open. He shifted his arm slightly to see who it was, only to find Chris peering at him with distaste.

“What are you still doing here, Nikiforov? You’re done for the day.” said Chris in a stern voice, “You’ll need to be up bright and early tomorrow, so go to the mansion now to get your stuff, then go home and pack!”

Victor moaned slightly in protest. He’d initially wanted to stop by the mansion unnoticed to collect a few necessities before his father got home, but a few last minute issues had delayed his plan and he was now dreading the possibility of running into his father and jeopardizing, or at least souring, their entire trip. Then, an idea struck him.

“Chris!” he exclaimed and sat upright, “You can go to the mansion instead!”

Christ let out an exasperated groan, “For crying out loud, Victor. You are a grown man. You can play your own hide and seek with your father yourself.”

But Victor gave him a pitiful look, and pleaded, “ _Please_ , Chris. For Yuuri’s sake?”

Chris rolled his eyes and replied in annoyance, “Oh, very well. Give me the list. I’ll go get Mila. I’ll need backup,” Victor flashed him a glowing smile as he turned away, muttering, “I swear, one of these days...”

Feeling a thousand pounds lighter at the thought that their last obstacle had been removed, Victor hurried to his desk to make the list of things he needed from the mansion, dropped it on Chris’ desk, and threw a quick “See you in a week!” to the rest of his team before walking briskly out of the office.

 

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Victor was pouting slightly in his seat on the plane, with Yuuri giving him a warning look from the seat next to him that said, “ _Do not_ bring this up again.”

When they were finalizing the details of the trip, Yuuri had been horrified by the expense of flying First Class and had doggedly suggested a number of alternatives, which included flying in separate classes, flying in ‘Premium Economy’, changing to a cheaper airline etc. In the end, they had reached a compromise and booked two seats in business class. But that hadn’t stopped Victor from constantly extolling the virtues of first class, even when they were checking in their luggage.

He’d said the seat/bed was bigger and you could roll around in it, to which Yuuri had calmly replied, it was sufficient that they could lie down at all. He’d followed it up by saying the food was prepared by a better chef, to which Yuuri had said that business class already had a good chef and if Victor really wanted to try the other chef’s cooking, they should go to his restaurant instead. Then Victor had said he was looking forward getting the pajamas they would get in first class and the toiletries were much classier, to which Yuuri had pointed out that Victor could bring his own pajamas and toiletries, and they would probably be better.

He was inwardly smug at several small victories, however, because the domestic flight from Tokyo to Fukuoka only had two classes, plus they would be arriving fairly late and arranging a car to pick them up from the airport to Hasetsu was far more sensible than taking the train. Yuuri had relented on both counts. Also, they’d somehow managed to avoid discussing the price of the hotel that Victor had chosen in Tokyo. Yuuri’s only consideration seemed to be its distance from the audition venue, and Victor intended to keep it that way because he’d read far too many good reviews about the hotel to give it up now.

He looked around his cubicle and wondered what he should do. It was odd not to be whipping out his laptop or making last minute calls while they were waiting for take-off. He felt a constant nagging in the back of his mind, telling him that he was supposed to be doing something right now, and he kept having to remind himself that there was nothing he should be doing. It was as though his mind wasn’t convinced that he had no work to do. But without work, he wasn’t sure how he should occupy himself over the next 14 hours.

He peered into Yuuri’s cubicle for suggestions, and saw that Yuuri had plugged in his own headphones into the in-flight entertainment system with an adapter, and was already scrolling through the available movies. He looked down at the headphones that had been provided by the airline, and wondered why he hadn’t thought of bringing his own. While they were by no means flimsy, they certainly didn’t have noise cancellation or comfy earpads. He’d need to buy one for the return journey.

As Yuuri settled down to watch a movie, Victor began scrolling through what was available on his screen, and was amazed at the wide selection. Despite the number of times he’d flown across the globe, he’d never really paid attention to the in-flight entertainment, because he’d either be working, eating, sleeping, or very occasionally, reading a book. Now that he had fourteen long hours to fill...huh, who knew they had multiplayer games on the system as well.

He ended up playing tetris against somebody on the flight and had been completely engrossed in the game when he noticed that Yuuri was looking at him with a small smile. Casting aside the controller, he reached across his seat to plant a small kiss on Yuuri’s lips, feeling a surge of warmth as he was reminded of his reason for being on this flight, quelling any subconscious urges to find something to do, and he savoured this new feeling of having nothing but Yuuri to occupy his mind.

His holiday had finally begun.

 

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Victor looked out of the car window into the night. He could see the glimmer of lights coming from the small town ahead. They would soon arrive in Hasetsu, and he would need to wake Yuuri up, who had fallen asleep as soon as they’d gotten into the car.

Even after the long haul flight, the four hour wait at Narita airport, and the two hour domestic flight to Fukuoka, Victor was still fully alert, his mind propped up by nervousness and anticipation at the prospect of meeting Yuuri’s family.

He had sat silently next to Yuuri, absently scratching Makkachin behind the ears, when Yuuri had skyped his parents to tell them about the audition and their visit. Victor had tried his best to keep out of sight as he listened contentedly to the seamless flow of conversation in Japanese, not wanting to intrude, but trying to catch as much as he could from what he’d learnt for the Japan project.

Most of it had sounded incomprehensible to him, aside from a few words like audition, Tokyo, and ballet. He even caught a few numbers, which he presumed to be the dates of their visit. What he hadn’t expected was to hear his name and something that sounded like boyfriend, which were quickly followed by a scream in the background and a younger, more demanding female voice taking over the conversation in a manic tone, caught between excitement and apprehension.

After a while, Yuuri had looked at him apologetically and said, “My parents and sister would like to say hi to you, if you don’t mind?”

Victor had beamed brightly at the invitation and immediately leaned in to join him in the video, saying “ _Hajimashite! Victor desu!”_ He was greeted by the eager faces of Yuuri’s parents and the narrowed, protective eyes of Yuuri’s sister.

Yuuri had introduced them, and tried to translate as much of the conversation as he could to both parties, with Victor chipping in occasionally, but mostly grinning broadly at Yuuri’s family and basking in the pure happiness of being included. By the end, Mari’s suspicion of Victor seemed to have lessened, and Hiroko was cheerfully saying they would have a small party when Yuuri arrived home.

And that was what’s waiting for them at the end of the car journey, despite the late hour. A small party to celebrate Yuuri getting an audition for the Tokyo Ballet, and Victor wondered how big a celebration they would have if Yuuri actually got into the company.

Victor gently shook a groggy Yuuri into wakefulness as the car pulled up outside an archway with a traditional Japanese roof, the entrance lit by two lanterns set on stone pedestals. The driver helped them to unload the suitcases and they dragged them across the rough ground leading into the inn, with Victor following two steps behind.

As Yuuri slid open the door of the entrance, while saying, “ _Tadaima..._ ”, they heard the sounds of joyful barking and Hiroko’s elated voice saying, “ _Yuuri, okaeri-i!”_ , before seeing two figures dashing towards them, with Hiroko halting right before the entrance and Vicchan leaping straight into Yuuri.

Victor laughed merrily at the sight of Yuuri trying to regain his balance after being tackled by a fairly large toy poodle, and basked in the look of pure joy on Hiroko’s face at Yuuri’s return. After exchanging a few excited words with Yuuri, Hiroko had cast a warm smile at Victor and said, “Vicchan, _irasshai_.”

Both he and the toy poodle had responded to the name, which made Victor chortle heartily again, as he scratched Vicchan behind the ears and said, “I think she means me,” before turning to Hiroko and saying with small bow, “ _Doozo yoroshiku.”_ Obviously delighted by Victor’s use of the language, Hiroko began a steady chatter in Japanese, and the only thing Victor understood was the welcoming tone of her voice, so he’d smiled brightly at her infectious joy and let Yuuri do most of the talking.

Leaving their luggage at the entrance for the time being, they followed Hiroko into the communal resting area of the inn. The small party turned out to be slightly larger than Victor had expected, and there was a chaotic chorus of, “ _Yuuri, okaeri”_ and “ _Omedetou”_ as they walked in. The room was decorated with multicoloured streamers, balloons and a large, adorable banner, and the center was dominated by a low table covered in colorful snacks, drinks and an impressive cake.

Yuuri greeted the scene with a look of long suffering mortification, coupled with a deep appreciation, as though he'd hoped his family hadn’t gone this far, but would still enjoy it now that they had. Everyone at the party were as eager to know Victor as they were anxious to catch up with Yuuri, and Victor had been equally keen reciprocate their efforts to welcome him into their circle, using a ragtag of English, Japanese and hand gestures to communicate depending on who the speakers were.

Victor was reluctant to leave Yuuri’s side initially, not wanting to divulge anything about their relationship that Yuuri hadn’t intended to, like how they met, or why they were living together so early in their relationship. However, after a while, it seemed as though his friends and family were content to accept the vague account that Yuuri had given them, and no one pushed for any more details.

By the time Yuuri was cornered by the Nishigori triplets, Victor had been comfortable enough to be left alone with Yuuko, who explained with a charming smile that the girls were very attached to Yuuri because he used to babysit them before he left for college. And when they were old enough, he had accompanied them ice skating at the rink that she managed with Takeshi.

“Yuuri ice skates?” Victor asked in amazement.

Yuuko had nodded enthusiastically and replied, “Yes, he was very good. We took lessons together when we were young.” She smiled at the sight of Yuuri trying to defend himself from the intense questioning of the triplets, and added, “I think everything would be very different if he continued ice skating.”

Victor had nodded mutely in agreement, and felt a sudden clenching in his chest at the thought of a world where their paths didn’t cross, where his life would still be as empty as his father’s since the death of his mother, and he still wouldn’t have a reason to leave his work behind for more than a few days.

When Yuuko left his side to rescue Yuuri from the triplets, Victor took a deep audible breath to clear his mind of anything that wasn’t the happiness of the here and now. Thankfully, distraction came in the form of Vicchan, whose name he now shared in the Katsuki household, and who was sniffing Victor curiously around the ankles. He bent down to greet Vicchan properly, and promised him a present tomorrow when they’ve had a chance to unpack.

Victor spent the remaining time of the party in the company of Yuuri’s old ballet teacher, Minako, who had flawless English and had seemed almost relieved to be chatting with someone who wasn’t from Hasetsu. Victor knew that Minako was a former ballerina who travelled the world and was also the reason Yuuri had fallen in love with ballet, and he took the opportunity to quiz her about Yuuri’s past.

Their talk had then moved on to their own lives, and Victor couldn’t help noticing how much of his life Minako understood, like their shared dislike of long-haul flights, their soul-crushing devotion to their work, the loneliness that came with it, and the cynical worldview they had acquired along the way. And because of her experiences, he had also found Minako to be far more perceptive and wary of his relationship with Yuuri. Which meant that when she had said casually before the party ended, “Stop by my snack bar when you’ve got nothing to do,” Victor had made a mental note to visit her as soon as possible.

When the Nishigoris and Minako had left, Hiroko busied herself with settling both of them in. They lugged their suitcases upstairs, and Yuuri rolled his into his old bedroom, while Hiroko showed Victor to a spacious room with a large double futon already laid out on the tatami floor.

Confused by the mixed signals he was getting about the sleeping arrangements, he decided suppress any emotions or expectations he’d had as he got ready for bed, and left the decision to Yuuri. When Yuuri hadn’t returned when he’d turned off the lights and burrowed under the covers in the dark, he tried not to acknowledge the rising disappointment, and instead forced himself to think that sleeping apart for a few days in the Katsuki family home was nothing compared to what he was putting Yuuri through in New York.

But he couldn’t stop the surge of happiness when he heard the bedroom door sliding gently open, and felt the ruffling of the covers as Yuuri slid in beside him.

 

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The sun was shining brightly through the curtains when they eventually woke up, still feeling the after effects of their journey. Victor reached across the floor for his phone, as Yuuri gave a grunt of discontent when he was dislodged from Victor's arms, and blearily opened his eyes.

“It's too early,” he mumbled and closed his eyes again.

Victor chuckled sleepily and nuzzled his nose in Yuuri’s hair, “It's probably noon already.” He checked the time on his phone, and said, “Actually, it’s only eleven.” A statement that would usually have sent them both into full panic mode, now made Victor sink back into the comfortable futon and tighten his embrace around Yuuri, who responded with a contented sigh.

They stayed like this for a while, enjoying the warmth of the gentle sun, dozing lightly but not fully asleep. The peaceful moment only ended when Yuuri began wriggling out of the embrace and mumbling that he needed the toilet. As Yuuri padded out of the room, rubbing his eyes and yawning, Victor laid flat on his back and began wondering how he should fill his day.

Yuuri would probably spend most of the afternoon at Minako’s ballet studio, and had been slightly upset at having to leave Victor alone for long stretches of time while he prepared for his audition. Victor had waved aside his worries, and said that he wouldn’t be alone, he would be surrounded by Yuuri’s family, and he was sure there were loads of things he could do in his free time.

But he wasn’t so sure anymore. What _could_ he do? His free time was usually a precious commodity, usually spent resting or recovering. But now that he had oceans of it, he couldn’t just sit around doing nothing for a week, and his mind tried to come to grips again with the concept of recreational activities, that is, things people did that were not work.

In the end, he decided on the cunning strategy of taking each activity as it came, and his growling stomach meant that he already knew what his first mission should be. Yuuri returned to the room shortly, dressed in his practice clothes, his face glistening with beads of water, as he shyly stood at the doorway and asked if Victor wanted their inn’s specialty breakfast or something else to eat.

“The specialty breakfast, of course,” Victor replied with a dazzling smile, wanting to immerse himself in Hasetsu as much as possible. He hurried out of bed to wash up and get dressed. When he returned Yuuri had already folded and stored the futon away, and was rearranging the furniture for daytime. Victor marveled at the efficient use of space, which gave the room a constant simplicity that he enjoyed immensely.

When they came downstairs, Hiroko greeted them happily and sat them down at a table in the communal area, where two delectable breakfast sets were waiting for them. There was a small bowl of rice, topped with something Yuuri had described as fermented soybeans, next to it was a bowl of miso soup, and a rectangular plate which held a small slice of lightly fried fish, a selection of fermented vegetables, a fried egg, a slice of ham, and a small portion of salad leaves.

It was an eccentric mix of traditional Japanese and Western food, which made Victor beam brightly at Hiroko, before saying, “ _Itadakimasu_!” in unison with Yuuri. Hiroko’s laughter rang merrily in the room at this, and they began to tuck in. Everything was incredibly tasty and light but filling, and the salad had the most unusual dressing that actually made Victor look forward to eating his greens.

Victor stayed a while in the communal area with Vicchan for company after Yuuri had left for Minako’s ballet studio, and Yuuri’s family dropped in occasionally to check on him. He lounged around lazily, giving Vicchan belly rubs, while wondering what he should do next.

Then, he remembered the present he had promised, and sauntered upstairs, with Vicchan following dutifully beside him. It was a matching, though much smaller, collar to the one that Yuuri had given Makkachin, and he had added a leash.

After replacing the old collar, he stood back to admire his handiwork, as Vicchan yipped excitedly, and wondered if he could take Vicchan out for a walk by the sea. He wandered around the inn until he found Mari to ask whether he could. After understanding Victor’s intentions and briefly commenting on Vicchan’s new things, Mari decided to instruct him with a practical demonstration. She took the new leash from Victor and said, “On road,” as she clipped on the new leash to Vicchan’s collar, then said, “Beside sea,” while unclipping the leash again, “OK?”

Victor immediately got what she meant, and replied with a grin, “OK,” which earned him a small smile.

The sea was gloriously peaceful, and Victor felt as if he could lose himself in the crashing of the waves and the cry of the seagulls overhead. He unclipped Vicchan’s leash and threw the toy he’d brought as far as he could. Vicchan immediately bolted after it, leaving Victor to survey the vast expanse around him alone. There was no one around for miles around, and the only figure he could see was an old man hunched over a bridge in the distance with his fishing pole.

With nothing standing between him and his inner thoughts, he could feel the fears and apprehension that he had tried to suppress begin to bubble up. He knew that his insecurities had already begun to show, mostly in the way he’d automatically braced himself to be rejected by Yuuri, even when Yuuri had repeatedly proven him wrong.

Like when Yuuri had been surprised that he would be coming to Japan, and he’d immediately assumed that Yuuri didn’t want him to; or when he’d assumed that Yuuri would keep their relationship or the fact that he wouldn’t be visiting alone from his parents until the last minute, if he told them at all; or when he’d assumed Yuuri wouldn’t want to sleep together in his parents’ home.

His insecurities all stemmed from the audition in Tokyo, and the uncertainty that it would leave in its wake. His deepest fear was that if Yuuri was successful, he would want to end their relationship, perhaps soon after they got back to New York. His rational mind told him that Yuuri’s actions until now did not suggest this at all. Why would Yuuri end it so quickly if he’d taken the trouble to include Victor so completely in his life, and had been so happy to introduce Victor to everyone close to him.

But the offer from Saito Yukari had been sudden, which may have made Yuuri reconsider his options over the past few weeks. What’s worse was that when they got back, they would have to hide their relationship even more, and Yuuri would have to play along with an elaborate scheme that he and Mila had concocted. These two points alone may just push Yuuri into deciding to end their relationship.  

And that thought never failed to bring on a wave of sickening desperation that he couldn’t control. He didn’t want to lose what they had. He didn’t want to become like his father. He couldn’t face being alone again. His desperation had driven him to search frantically for a way to preserve both their careers and their relationship, because losing any of it was unthinkable to him now. He’d tried nearly everything he could think of, even to the point of angering some of the warhorses, until Yakov had taken him aside for a long chat. That had dampened the hysteria slightly but it only made him more careful and he hadn’t stopped searching.

His eyes fell on the sight of Vicchan running eagerly back towards him, glowing with the sheer happiness of having retrieved the toy. He decided to take a leaf from Vicchan’s book, to focus on one thing at a time, to indulge in each hour as it came, and right now he was the most deeply and immensely contented as he’d ever been.

 

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When they returned to the inn, Victor went for a long soak in the onsen, and was completely convinced of its healing powers, as the water smoothed out all the tension in his muscles. He returned to the communal area with a book, reading intermittently as regulars of the onsen came and went. Some of them chatting briefly with Victor, possibly curious about the foreigner who’d come to stay. Occasionally, one of them would turn on the TV in the communal area, and Victor would try to watch some of the programs that caught his eye.

Yuuri’s family came by occasionally to check on him as well, each of them able to stay a little longer with him now that it was the afternoon lull before the evening rush.

He was slightly in awe at how different Toshiya was to his own father, appearing so entirely laid back and accepting of everything Yuuri did, managing even to frame the worst of Yuuri’s failures as a light-hearted joke. He even told the amusing tale of how Vicchan came to be named by pointing to a picture of his children and the poodle in turn, while saying, “Ma-ri, Yuu-ri, Shou-ri. _Demo_ , Yuuri want English name, Shou-ri English is victory. We call Vicchan. Now we have two Vicchan.” And he finished with the smile of a proud father aimed at Victor.

He was also amazed at the fierce protectiveness that Mari seemed to exude underneath her nonchalance, and even more surprised when he realized that her zone of protection had expanded to include him as well. She managed to tease him in her limited English, and he had tried to retaliate with the help of Google translate.

However, he found that the person whose company he most craved was Hiroko’s. Her presence seemed to fill a gap in his life that he hadn’t known or acknowledged was there. Her bubbly infectious joy, her deep love for her son that had spilled over so effortlessly to Victor, wanting -nothing but the best for both of them. There was nothing in his life he could compare it to, but based on the old pictures and occasional stories of his own mother, Victor believed that Irina wouldn’t have been too different from Hiroko, if a little more flamboyant and overbearing.

A small part of his mind had warned him not to get too close to Yuuri’s family, in case things didn’t work out and he’d lose four people instead of one. But Victor couldn’t care less, he hadn’t known what he was missing before, this warm feeling of being included in a close tight-knit family, and now that he had a taste of it, he only wanted more.

Victor had eventually fallen asleep in the communal area, with his book covering his face and Vicchan curled up next to him. He wasn’t sure how long he’d napped for before he was awakened by a loud thud on the table beside him. He blinked a few times as he removed the book from his face, and felt a soft cushion that someone had placed under his head. Vicchan was gone from his side, and he turned his head to see who the intruder was.

It turned out to be Yuuri, who was half sprawled on the low table, his practice bag tossed haphazardly aside, his glasses wonky, his face almost green with exhaustion, and his right hand weakly petting Vicchan on the head.

Victor smiled sleepily at the dismal sight as he sat up slowly, his robes sliding slightly off his shoulder, and asked, “Good practice?”

Yuuri gave a helpless laugh, as his left hand blindly sought out Victor’s and said wearily, “Minako-sensei is worse than Lilia.”

Victor interlaced their fingers and held up the back of Yuuri’s hand to his lips as he chuckled softly, “Good thing she’s not based in New York then.” And Yuuri responded with a shudder.

Knowing exactly what Yuuri needed, Victor gathered up his bag and gently escorted him back to the room, where he helped him to change into one of the inn’s robes. They undressed fully in the changing room of the onsen, and Victor peered into the shower area. Thankfully, it was late enough that most of the guests were either having dinner or getting ready to go home, which meant that they had the onsen to themselves for a while.

He led Yuuri to one of the low stools and sat him down near one of the showers, then adjusted the temperature of the water and began running it over Yuuri’s hair and body. The warm cascade of water seemed to wash away the day’s exertions, as Yuuri gave a deep sigh of satisfaction. Victor squirted some shampoo into his hand and worked his fingers through Yuuri’s soft black hair, as he lathered up the shampoo, and massaged his scalp gently. Yuuri pressed his back against Victor’s bare torso, as he let out small appreciative noises, thoroughly indulging the simple action.

Victor reached over for the body wash next, and began running his hands over the smooth skin of Yuuri’s body. Using the slickness of the soap, he tried to smooth out the knots in Yuuri’s muscles, first kneading the tight muscles on his neck and shoulders, then applying firm pressure in small circles on his back muscles. Yuuri moaned softly in pleasure as the tension was kneaded away, which sent a thrill through Victor’s spine, as he savoured the intimate contact they shared. Perhaps it was the exhaustion, but Yuuri had never before accepted Victor’s pampering without some form of protest, and his current state of open indulgence was bewitching.

Victor finished soaping up the rest of Yuuri’s body and rinsed him thoroughly, before leading him into the onsen. He could practically hear the last of Yuuri’s tension drain away as he lowered himself into the steaming water.

Victor stood by the edge, wondering whether it was wise to have so many baths in one day, but the temptation of a naked Yuuri in the warm healing water had been too great, and he hurried back to the shower area for a quick wash before joining Yuuri in the onsen.

“Did you have a good day, Vicchan?” Yuuri asked in a contented voice, fixing him with a tired but serene look.

Victor felt a rush of endearment at the nickname, and began regaling him with tales of his adventures with his namesake by the sea that made Yuuri laugh constantly in amusement as he listened.

When they returned to the communal area, Hiroko had dinner waiting for them. She knew her son well, because the dinner was simple and light, and in Yuuri’s current state, he couldn’t possibly manage anything more. Yuuri began to nod off at the table even before dinner was finished, and Victor bundled him off to bed as soon as possible, all the while smiling at his incoherent thank yous and sorries.

Unfortunately, due to his extended nap in the afternoon, Victor was still wide awake, and couldn’t possibly fall asleep for hours yet. After toying with a few options, he eventually decided to pay Minako a visit at her bar.

It wasn’t a long walk from the inn, and he breathed in the scent of the salty sea air as he strolled out into the night. There was a stillness in the town, broken only by the occasional hum of a distant car, and the chirping of crickets. The small, narrow streets were lit by the dim glow of sporadic street lamps, partially illuminating the stone walls that surrounded the rows of houses.

Victor suspected that unlike the rest of Yuuri’s family, whose only concern was for Yuuri to be healthy and happy, Minako also cared deeply about Yuuri’s potential as a ballet dancer. After all, she was the one who first gave him the incentive to pursue this demanding career, and now seemed to work him harder than anyone else. She reminded Victor somewhat of his father, actually, just in the way they both hated to see wasted talent, and the unrelenting determination they could drive people to fully realize their potential.

From the party, Victor also sensed that Minako was slightly suspicious of Yuuri’s vagueness about how they met. So, she may probe a bit deeper into their relationship tonight, and possibly try to find out how it was affecting Yuuri’s career. He wasn’t sure how much he should reveal, but he knew that not turning up at her bar would send a far worse signal, as if they really did have something sordid to hide.

He found the place with ease, and slid open the wooden door to reveal a small, classy drinking establishment, the sound of lounge music playing softly in the background. He saw Minako standing behind the bar, casually saying goodnight to a few customers, who seemed to be her regulars. Victor stepped aside as they politely pushed past him to go home, and was soon left alone with Minako in the cosy bar. She gave him a small wave as he approached, and he greeted her with a cheeky, “ _Konbanwa,_ Minako-san”.

She gave him a sly smirk and replied, “You won’t impress me with your Japanese skills. Go use it on your future in-laws.”

Victor couldn’t help the loud laugh that escaped his lips, and knew that he had been right about Minako’s intentions behind asking him to drop by.

She poured him a drachm of Hibiki 12 before he could decide what to drink, and Victor chuckled softly. She had remembered from the party that Victor wanted to taste a few Japanese whiskies before he left.

To his surprise, their conversation always seemed to be centered on Victor, his job, his life, his friends, even Makkachin. The closest they’d come to talking about their relationship was when Victor felt confident enough to reveal that his father and the company’s senior management didn’t approve of Victor’s relationship with Yuuri, or with anyone for that matter. And any mention of Yuuri was always linked to his future as a professional dancer. Minako hadn’t skirted around the topic, and had asked him point blank what they would do if Yuuri was successful.

Victor had replied as truthfully as he could, “I don’t know. I don’t want to give it up, but I don’t know what else I can do.”

To which, Minako had given him a long searching look, before saying slowly, “I know that things are not so simple between you.” Victor felt a hitch in his breath at being caught off guard, and tried to prepare himself for the upcoming interrogation.

But Minako seemed to have noticed his panicked expression and continued, “You don’t need to give me any details. I just wanted you to know that when Yuuri loves something, he has a tendency to give up everything for it.” She paused briefly, and seemed to be thinking over her next words, then said, “Just make sure he doesn’t do anything rash that could ruin his career.”

He’d left soon after that, and as he made his way slowly back to the inn, he began to mull over their last exchange. He’d initially assumed that she was warning him about the impending heartbreak, that Yuuri’s complete devotion to ballet meant he would eventually have to give up everything that stood in its way, including Victor. It wasn’t anything new, Victor had spent the last few weeks trying to come to terms with it.

But her follow-up statement had confused him. Why would Yuuri do anything to jeopardize something he loved so much? What rash thing would he do?

What Minako had said seemed extremely important, as though she was truly concerned about what Yuuri would do next. And also because Victor felt an odd sense of déjà vu about that statement, as if someone else had said something similar very recently.

He didn’t have to dig too far back in his memory before the sullen face of Yuri Plisetsky swam into view, little Yuri who’d curtly told Victor to make sure Yuuri doesn’t mess up. They’d both seen something to make them genuinely concerned that Yuuri would do something to affect his career. Whatever it was, Victor couldn’t see it and none of it made any sense.

But even as his mind tried to rationalize the two confusing exchanges, a sickening sense of dread began to emerge that made his heart sink, something that had been buried deep in his subconscious, far worse than his fear of losing Yuuri.

All he needed was a shift in perspective, and both exchanges would make sense. It was a thought that hadn’t occurred to him, or perhaps one that he hadn’t wanted to think about. Minako had meant that Yuuri might have started placing their relationship above his career, and whether consciously or subconsciously he may have considered giving up his chance at joining the Tokyo Ballet for them to be together. And the thought made Victor sick to the pits of his stomach.

It was all wrong. Even the possibility that Yuuri was thinking about it was all completely wrong. Victor tried to control the wave of nausea that had overwhelmed his senses. Not for this, not for what Victor had to offer, not his awful, squalid world. Yuuri deserved much more, not be stuck in the shadows with him. And Victor felt a growing regret at coming to Japan, his presence was a physical reminder to Yuuri of the choice he had to make. Victor had to stay away, he didn’t want to be the obstacle to Yuuri’s future, hadn’t even considered that he might be one, he couldn’t become the reason for Yuuri to give up his dreams.

Especially because he knew that there was a small selfish part in him that hoped Yuuri wouldn’t succeed, and they could draw out their time together. He hated that part of himself, and had desperately tried to suppress it. What if it hadn’t been enough? What if Yuuri had seen it too?

He barely noticed where his feet were taking him, and was surprised when he reached the entrance of the inn. He didn’t want to go in, he wanted to remove his presence from Yuuri’s world, but he had nowhere else to go.

He eventually entered the inn with a heavy heart, and padded silently upstairs. When he slid under the covers next to Yuuri, he fought the urge draw Yuuri into a tight embrace and stayed as far away as he could, even when Yuuri reached out to him in his sleep.

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All comments welcomed and appreciated <3  
> I'm on [Tumblr ](https://weberina.tumblr.com/). Feel free to send me a message, chat, ask me stuff, anything!  
> A sketch of [Yakov's bald spot glinting in the lamp lights ](https://weberina.tumblr.com/post/162434951036/so-the-story-behind-this-sketch-by-my-sisterbeta)by my sister (inspired by Chapter 4). Also, the sketch made into an actual [rubber stamp.](https://weberina.tumblr.com/post/164290479916/yakovs-stamp-of-approval)
> 
> List of Japanese phrases:  
> Hajimashite! Victor desu! -- Glad to meet you! I am Victor!  
> Tadaima... -- I'm home...  
> Okaeri -- Welcome home  
> Irasshai -- Welcome (to our home)  
> Doozo yoroshiku -- Pleased to meet you.  
> Omedetou -- Congratulations  
> Demo -- However


	9. The Road to Tokyo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your lovely comments and support :D  
> As usual, beta'd my very busy sister (whose schedule I now follow x_x)...  
> Hope you like this chapter!!!

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The familiar ringing tone filled his ears as he waited, his eyes staring blankly at the calm river ahead, his hand pressed lightly into the rough texture of the stone bench he was sitting on.

After four rings, he heard a cool voice saying, “Mila Babicheva speaking.”

“Hey, Mila,” he said, trying to sound light-hearted.

“Victor?!” she exclaimed, surprise apparent in her voice, “I thought you said not to bother you? Where are you calling from?”

Victor surveyed the jagged skyline opposite the river, and then at the closed shutters and empty streets in his vicinity, before saying, “Somewhere in the red-light district in Fukuoka. Nothing’s open though, I'm too early.”

Mila paused, and Victor could almost hear her frowning when she said, “Isn't it 9:30am in Japan? What are you doing in a red-light district? Shouldn't you be back in Hasetsu supporting Yuuri?”

Victor didn’t know what to say. He’d rang Mila out of instinct, just as he’d boarded the train this morning out of impulse. His only thought had been to get away from Hasetsu, to escape the mess of emotions, to find a quiet place to think, but now that he was in another city, he found that his troubles had only followed him here.

He had fought the throng of people heading to work, and had absent-mindedly crossed the bridge connecting the rest of the city to the Nakasu district. It was supposed to be a sea of noise and neon lights at night, but was now quiet and deserted. For some reason, when he'd finally found somewhere to stop walking, he’d felt the urge to ring Mila. The most level-headed person he knew.

After a drawn-out silence, Mila asked carefully, “Victor, is something wrong?”

“No,” he replied with a sigh, “Not yet, anyway.”

Minako’s words were still echoing in his ears, and he still couldn’t think properly with most of his brain trying to suppress his rising panic.  

As Mila waited patiently for him to continue, he could hear Chris’ voice in the background, yelling, “Is that Victor? Tell him, whatever it is, he's over-thinking it, and hang up.”

Mila chuckled, “Ignore Chris.” And Victor couldn't help but smile as he replied, “He's probably right.”

After another brief silence, Victor asked hesitantly, “Do you think Yuuri would give up Tokyo for us to stay together?”

“Do you want him to?” asked Mila in a carefully neutral tone.

“No,” Victor replied immediately, but he could almost see Mila’s raised eyebrow and quickly added, “Mostly no.”

“And…?” Mila prompted.

“I'm just worried that Yuuri might quit if he thinks that I want him to.”

“But you _mostly_ don't want him to?”

“But what if he picks up on the 10% that does? And sabotages his own performance?”

“Victor Nikiforov,” Mila said with a tired sigh, “I don't think Yuuri is the type of person who'll do something just because someone wants him to. Let alone do something you _mostly_ don't want him to do.

That's true, thought Victor. Underneath his shyness, Yuuri was a proud and independent person who knew his own mind, even if he didn't always show it. Which also meant that if he _did_ want to sabotage his own audition, there might not be anything that Victor could do about it.

“So...what if he does want to quit? What if he’s considering it right now?” he pressed on. It was a legitimate worry, and from the drumming of Mila’s fingers, she seemed to agree.

“Hmm…” she finally said, “Has he shown any signs that he's considering quitting?”

“Like what?”

“Oh, I don't know. Looking guilty? Pissing off his instructors? Slacking off at training?”

“Well...” he began slowly, carefully going through his recent memories of Yuuri, “The only thing he looks these days is exhausted, and all of his instructors seem quite pleased with him.” Lilia in particular seemed almost cheerful the last time Victor saw her.

Then, he thought about the long hours that Yuuri had put in the previous weeks, and how close he had been to the brink of fainting after yesterday’s session with Minako. “He trained pretty hard yesterday. And he still managed to wake up for his usual run this morning…”

He chuckled a little at _how_ they’d woken up. Yuuri had managed to worm his way into Victor’s arms during the night, despite his best efforts to stay on the opposite edge of the futon. He had woken up to the annoying screech of the phone alarm, with Yuuri draped over him, and half his back on the tatami floor.

“So, it sounds like he doesn’t have any immediate plans to sabotage the audition,” said Mila matter of factly.

“I guess so…” replied Victor with hesitation. But it wasn’t enough to drown out the churning fears he felt. He needed something more solid to hold on to, something more convincing.

“And I know what you'll be thinking next,” continued Mila, “That Yuuri might _subconsciously_ want to fail so that you can stay together. But you can’t really do anything about that. Unless you want to do something melodramatic, like say you'll run away with him if he gets in.”

At this, Victor heard Chris’ voice in the background again, exclaiming, “Melodramatic. I heard the word melodramatic! What did Victor do? He _proposed_ didn't he?”

Victor burst out laughing at Chris’ delirious remark, as Mila made noises of dismay at the two drama queens she had to rein in.

Reality quickly sobered him up. Mila was right. The only way to completely stop Yuuri from thinking about quitting was for Victor to offer him some measure of reassurance that they would stay together even if he was successful. But what can he do to give Yuuri the reassurance he needed without making promises he might not be able to fulfill?

“How are you and Sara coping?” asked Victor, suddenly going on a tangent, which seemed to catch Mila off guard.

“Wha- Oh, we're fine. Better than fine, I think. And if you mean what does she think of the entire sordid arrangement, she finds it all very funny,” Mila laughed lightly, probably recalling some of Sara’s choice remarks, “But you know that it's very different for us, you can't possibly do what we're doing.”

That's true too, thought Victor a little wistfully. It wasn't just that people didn't question their constant presence together, as long as they didn't kiss or hold hands in public. Mila also tended to be a lot less concerned about the future than him, “winging it” she calls it, and Sara had a permanent job in New York, which really helped.

There went his plans of trying to copy whatever Mila was doing, and he sighed deeply, not sure what he should do next.

“Look,” said Mila, “Stop brooding over this and go back to Hasetsu. Because I’ll tell you what would _definitely_ mess him up before the audition,” her voice sounded more stern, which immediately brought Victor to full alertness, “You not being there to support him at this moment. He’ll start thinking that you want to end things. And even if you are thinking about it, this is _not_ the time and place. I mean, does he even know where you are right now?”

Victor felt a sudden chill in his heart. He'd slipped out of the inn before Yuuri got back from his run, and hadn't told anybody where he had gone. What must Yuuri have thought when he came back to find the room empty and Victor gone? Mila was right. His unexplained absence now would definitely mess up Yuuri's emotions before his audition, much more than their undefined, subconscious worry about the future.

Now that Mila had helped him to clear some of the fog in his mind, he couldn't believe how stupidly he had overreacted to Minako’s words. Surely if Yuuri had shown any clear sign of giving up because of Victor, Minako would've done _a lot_ more than given Victor a subtle heads up. They would've had problems finding his body.

He blamed it on all the free time he had. And the fact that he couldn’t seem to think straight about anything to do with Yuuri.

He stood up quickly from the bench and began walking briskly towards to the train station, trying to find the correct street while saying distractedly, “Right, erm, I need to go now Mila! Say hi to everyone, and erm...thanks for the chat!”

“Anytime, Victor,” she said with a smile in her voice, before hanging up.

 

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Victor exhaled deeply in relief, as he slumped against the studio door, and then inhaled to catch his breath properly. It was nearly noon and thank god Yuuri was still in the ballet studio with Minako. He hadn't been sure when they would take a break, or whether Yuuri would return early to the inn to find Victor still absent. A thousand little things that could've gone wrong, and his throat constricted with fear as he remembered how his rash actions had nearly ended everything at the Nikiforov mansion.

Victor peeked into the studio window, and saw Yuuri practicing one of the harder jumps, his arms extended slightly in front of him as he leapt through the air and completed a full split in mid-air, before landing softly on his toes. Victor recognized it as a grand jeté, and he couldn’t look away as Yuuri’s lithe body defied gravity with a forceful strength that was thinly veiled by a mesmerising grace.

Minako noticed him, and made a small gesture for him to come in with a welcoming smile. But Victor shook his head slightly. He didn’t want to interrupt Yuuri’s concentration, and he loved watching Yuuri dance from afar, untouched and untainted by his presence. How often had he stood like this over the past weeks, looking into the practice room at the school, watching as Yuuri poured his soul into his movements, his raw emotions opened to the world, his strong muscles glistening with sweat.

As he watched, Yuuri stumbled on one of the jumps and a look of frustration flashed across his face. But he quickly recovered, and calmly assessed what had gone wrong, before attempting the jump again, his eyes alight with an intense glow of determination that made the bulk of Victor’s fears shrivel away. Yuuri wouldn’t accept anything less than perfection for his audition, and Victor was sure of that now.

But when Yuuri stumbled yet again when he landed, Victor realized that he seemed to be making more mistakes than usual. Small ones, but certainly not the polished moves that Victor was used to seeing, and every mistake seemed to be eating away at his confidence. The look of slight concern on Minako’s face confirmed Victor’s suspicion, and he began to observe Yuuri more carefully. He started to catch glimpses of distraction, as Yuuri darted furtive glances towards the far corner of the studio. Victor followed his gaze, and saw that Yuuri was constantly looking over to check his phone, which was perched on his practice bag, his expression a mixture of anticipation and worry.

Victor felt his chest clenching tightly as he realized what he was seeing. Yuuri seemed to be waiting for a message or a call from him, obviously troubled by his sudden disappearance this morning, and wanted some sign of his whereabouts. Victor could see the slight strain on Yuuri’s face, as he tried to suppress his worry and focus on his practice.

Victor groaned inwardly. Why was Mila always right? More importantly, why was he such a blubbering idiot around Yuuri?

He waited until they took a break, and Yuuri was hunched over his practice bag, before pushing the door open gently. Minako walked past him with a questioning look in her eye but said nothing, as Victor stepped into the studio and called out, “Yuuri.”

The look of obvious relief on Yuuri’s face when he whipped around and saw Victor made his heart ache. Yuuri took a few hesitant steps towards him, as though he wasn’t sure what had driven Victor away this morning and was wondering if Victor still needed some space.

Victor quickly closed the distance between them, not wanting to leave room for doubt, and gently cupped Yuuri’s face to draw him into a tender kiss. Yuuri returned the kiss eagerly, reaching up to grasp the nape of Victor’s neck with both hands, as the turmoil of his emotions poured into the touch of their lips.

When Victor eventually drew back to breathe, Yuuri kept him close and said with a hint of possessiveness, “You were not there when I got back.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” said Victor,  as he ran the back of his hand lightly along Yuuri’s cheek, still feeling terrible for causing the unneeded worry, “I went for a long walk...somewhere. Are you free for lunch?”

Yuuri gave a small smile, as he covered Victor’s hand with his, and suggested, “We could have it somewhere in town. And we can walk around Hasetsu afterwards.”

“That would be nice,” replied Victor, returning his smile, and said lightly, “As long as we get you back here before Minako sends out a search party.”

Yuuri kept a tight clasp on his hand when they left the ballet studio, unwilling to release their intertwined fingers as they walked through Hasetsu looking for something to eat. Even when they had settled into a table at a curry rice restaurant and were looking through the menu, Yuuri refused to break their contact and tightened his grip when Victor tried to pull away. It seemed that Victor’s absence in the morning had affected him much more than he was letting on, and Victor squeezed his hand in return, wanting to reassure him that he was not going anywhere.

After lunch, they sauntered around the town, with Yuuri occasionally pointing out things of interest. There was a sleepy quality to the place, and no one seemed to be in a rush to get anywhere, as though they had been lulled into contentment by the constant cries of the seagulls overhead and the salty breeze that came from the sea. Perhaps it was the unhurried pace of the seaside town, because Yuuri began to relax slightly and his stories about Hasetsu became more animated.

They walked through the covered shopping streets, lit by sunlight filtering in through the transparent roof above. The small shops sold a random assortment of things, from shoes to bric-a-bracs to fresh seafood. A few of the shopkeepers were sitting on small stools outside their shops, nodding and giving them friendly smiles as they passed.

They eventually ended up walking along the river that fed into the sea, and stopped to admire the view of Hasetsu Castle, which was perched on a small hill and dominated the skyline ahead. Yuuri was pressed closed to him and cheerfully saying that the ice skating rink managed by the Nishigoris was at the foot of the hill, beneath the castle, and that the castle itself actually had a ninja house inside. Victor’s ears perked up at the word ninja, and he exclaimed excitedly that they should visit when they could. Yuuri laughed brightly at his excitement and then seemed to be considering whether he should take the afternoon off so that they could. But Victor lifted his chin slightly to meet his gaze, and said gently, “We’ll have plenty of time later. Your work now is important,” before planting a light kiss on Yuuri’s receptive lips.

When they returned to Minako’s ballet studio, Yuuri seemed reluctant to let Victor out of his sight, showing signs of his earlier tension, and looking as if he wanted to ask something from Victor that he didn’t think he should. But he didn’t have to, because Victor could see from his worried glance what he needed, and said, “Can I stay and watch you practice?”

Yuuri had replied immediately with a relieved and breathless, “Yes, please. I want you to.”

Minako hadn’t batted an eyelash when Victor drew up two chairs in the corner of the studio, sitting in one and propping his feet up on the other. He watched as the earlier distraction in Yuuri vanished completely, his focus more intense than Victor had ever seen, his movements clean and sharp, as his body moved fluidly to the darkness and despair of the modern dance piece.

There was an enthralling beauty in Yuuri’s dance when he found his confidence. It was a certainty in his ability to reach out and draw the audience into the world that he was painting and creating with his body, a certainty that the audience could see what he saw, and felt what he felt.

For some unfathomable reason, Victor’s presence was able to bring out this confidence in Yuuri, and he craved to see more of it. If only he could find a way to remove the uncertainty of their future together, if only he could provide a more solid foundation for them to stand on. He couldn’t imagine the level of allure that Yuuri would emanate with that kind of stability, or the heights he would achieve, he would be irresistable.

There had to be something Victor had missed, or perhaps something that he could tell Yuuri, just enough to give him some degree of reassurance. Against Mila’s advice to stop brooding, he began reviewing the three options that he had narrowed down their future to.

The first option had been obvious. They could agree to do a long-distance relationship, which would give Victor more time to figure out a better plan. But the notion of a long-distance relationship itself was fraught with uncertainties. Even if they miraculously managed to find the time to Skype and travel half the globe regularly, trying to maintain long-distance without a clear timeline of when they would eventually be together didn’t seem feasible. Victor would rather have a clean cut, than watch the relationship die slowly over time.

The second option had been slightly reckless. He could leave the company and run away with Yuuri to Tokyo. He chuckled slightly at the idea. He had daydreamed about it, and had been caught with a goofy grin at work a few times. But all it took was one look outside his office at the noise and chaos of both his teams to dispel the idea. Too many people were counting on him, nearly two hundred and fifty under his charge, and they were not just his colleagues, they were his friends. And some were not just his friends, they had become his family.

He knew that Mila and Chris would happily pick up the pieces if he decided to up and leave. Georgi would come around after a few years, and Yakov would probably still talk to him once they got past the shouting phase. But because of their firm loyalty to him, it was unthinkable for him to leave them.  

And then there was his father. No matter how well-planned, how much notice and how little disruption his departure would cause, his father would never speak to him again. It wouldn’t have mattered if his father truly didn’t care about him, but Victor knew that Vladimir would only bottle up all the hurt and pain, as it gnawed away at his heart until there was nothing left. Just like how his life had come to a standstill the night his wife had died and Victor was born, never quite managing to get past that one nightmarish moment.

Yakov had once told him it wasn’t that Vladimir didn’t love him. He couldn’t. Not when he could see so many glimpses of Irina in Victor. And so he had shown his love the only way he could, by throwing himself into his work to build a lasting legacy that he could give to his son. And Victor desperately wanted to be that son, even when it had cost him so much, which meant he couldn’t break his father’s heart by leaving the company.

That left the third option that he had started pursuing recently. He could move to Tokyo with Yuuri and take over the Japan project. He would still be part of the company and could do what he wanted. But when he’d tried to tag along with Jason to the next meeting in Tokyo, he’d been told that it was not necessary for two senior staff to be present at such a small meeting. Then, when he’d tried several variations of trying to replace Jason, mostly with Jason’s full consent, he’d been told that Jason was better equipped to handle the Japan project. Also, there was no one to oversee the Russia project in the meantime.

His antics had so annoyed a few warhorses that Yakov had dragged him to one side and told him pointedly to stop meddling with the Japan project, especially now that it only needed time to grow, and to focus on the Russian project, because it was far more unsettled and so much more was at stake. At Victor’s dejected expression, Yakov had softened his tone ever so slightly to say, “Maybe in two to five years, when we’ve found our roots in Russia and the Japan project has more substance, you can move.”

Two to five years. Maybe. Would Yuuri really wait two to five years? Two was very different from five. And even then, there was no certainty.

So, he hadn’t missed anything after all. There was nothing he could give to reassure Yuuri.

He watched as Yuuri came out of a complicated series of steps and spins, before beaming radiantly at Victor at his flawless execution.

Victor returned his smile, which seemed enough to keep out the shadows in Yuuri’s mind, and he finally resigned himself to the fact that all he could do for Yuuri at this very moment was to sit here and radiate strong positive vibes. It would have to be enough.

 

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The first thought in Victor’s mind when he opened his eyes in the morning had been that he couldn’t spend another day with nothing to do. They had one more day in Hasetsu before flying to Tokyo, so he needed something to occupy him for one whole day before he started over-thinking and did something stupid again.

An idea struck him

After giving Yuuri a thorough kiss goodbye, secretly pleased with himself that Yuuri was now flushed and flustered, Victor wandered off in search of Hiroko, with Vicchan close at his heels. He found her in the kitchen, preparing the ingredients for their speciality breakfast, and after a few false starts with his broken Japanese, he finally got the message through that he wanted to help around the inn today. Hiroko had laughed in surprise and cheerfully replied, “ _Mochiron, mochiron!”_ which Victor took to mean yes.

He was first tasked with carefully lifting out five different types of preserved vegetables from their individual jars using chopsticks, and arranging them neatly on the square plates, which actually took him much longer than expected. Then, he was tasked with coring and slicing apples, from which he learnt the helpful tip that soaking them in salted water stopped them from browning.

He worked merrily away in the kitchen at all the little tasks that Hiroko entrusted him with, carefully following her instructions and basking in her praises, even though he mostly only understood her positive tone of voice, while also noting that she kept him very far away from handling the fish and rice.

As the guests began appearing for breakfast, Victor helped to serve and clear up, sometimes chatting to some of the more adventurous guests, with Hiroko happily explaining to everyone that Victor was her son’s boyfriend, and Toshiya occasionally popping in to laugh in amusement at the sight.

It was nearly eleven before Victor even thought to look at a clock, and by that time most of the guests had vacated their rooms, so Hiroko had asked him to help Mari with cleaning the rooms. Mari’s instructions were a little easier to follow, as they stripped the futon of bedding and replaced them with new ones, then wiped the tatami floor by hand, while trying to navigate around Vicchan, before wiping down the surfaces and rearranging the furniture. All the while chatting and teaching each other new vocabulary, that gradually became cruder and cruder.

After doing the rooms, Victor was helping Hiroko unload bottles of milk from the delivery van, when he heard a surprised, “Victor?”

He turned his head and saw Yuuri staring at him with his jaw dropped open.

“Back so soon?” Victor asked brightly.

But Yuuri still seemed to be in shock, as he stammered, “Wh-what are you doing?”

Victor shrugged and nodded at the crate of milk bottles, “Bringing these inside. Wanna help?”

Yuuri looked like he couldn’t find the words to reply, and laughed helplessly in disbelief, before lifting another crate.

After they’d emptied the van and bade the delivery man goodbye, Yuuri said sheepishly, “Minako-sensei threw me out of the studio. She said I shouldn’t over-train in case I hurt myself.”

Victor circled his arm around Yuuri’s waist, as they returned to the inn to put the milk bottles away, and said comfortingly, “Don’t worry about it. If she was happy to throw you out, it means you’ve probably done all you can.” Yuuri relaxed visibly at these words, leaning his body closer inwards, and Victor knew his mission for the afternoon was to keep Yuuri from worrying restlessly about his audition.

It turned out Hiroko was already one step ahead, because when they wandered into the communal area in search of lunch, she brought in two large, steaming bowls of food with a glorious aroma that made his stomach growl.

Yuuri’s eyes lit up immediately, as he joyfully exclaimed, _“Katsudon!_ ” while gazing lovingly at his portion, and was attacking it with ferocity after a quick, _“Itadakimasu!_ ”

The dish was a crispy pork cutlet covered in an omelette cooked in a special sauce, sitting on a bed of rice, garnished with peas and spring onions. Victor clearly remembered the longing detail with which Yuuri had described this dish in one of their first conversations, and laughed fondly at the little moans of pleasure that were now coming from him. But he soon understood Yuuri’s enthusiasm when he bit down on his first slice of crispy pork, and was immediately blown away by the explosion of tastes. Food shouldn’t be able to taste this good. It could only be from heaven, and Victor was soon devouring it with equal ferocity, with Hiroko laughed merrily in the background.

When they were sated, they slumped to the floor to recover from the satisfying meal, and Vicchan promptly came in to settle himself on Victor’s chest. As he stroked Vicchan’s soft fur, he remembered a niggling detail at the back of his mind, and asked curiously, “Yuuri, how do you know Yuri Plisetsky?”

“Oh, Yurio?” Yuri answered drowsily, “I know him from last year’s summer camp at Juilliard. He was...memorable.”

“Really?” replied Victor in amazement, “Wow, small world. Why does he call you katsudon?”

Yuuri laughed affectionately at that and said, “Because everyone at the camp kept calling him Yurio and he blames it on me. He hated me so much he said he wanted to put my dancing to shame in the future.”

Oh dear, thought Victor. Salty, snarky Yurio. He probably meant he wanted to be as good a dancer as Yuuri when he grew up. Well, Victor could translate his latest remark.

“Yurio wished you luck when I last saw him,” said Victor, as he turned to look at Yuuri’s closed eyes and contented expression.

Yuuri gave a small laugh of disbelief, his cheeks tinted with a slight blush, and said fondly, “I’ll thank him when I see him again.”

Victor smiled at this odd connection that he had with Yuuri, as he savoured the luxury of chatting idly on a lazy afternoon. They could easily doze off into a comfortable nap right here, but he fought to keep his eyes opened. They needed to stay awake, or else they’d go to bed too late and have a tough time waking up tomorrow for their flight to Tokyo.

He suddenly remembered something they wanted to do and sat up abruptly, which dumped an annoyed Vicchan into his lap.

“Yuuri,” he exclaimed, “Let’s go to the ninja house!” and he tried to rouse the half-asleep Yuuri who mumbled drowsily, “Ninja house?” before he was dragged to his feet.

The short hike up to Hasetsu Castle in the refreshing sea breeze was just the ticket, with Vicchan trotting ahead of them on his leash. The gentle, meandering slope was an easy climb, but steep enough for them to feel like they’ve earned the breathtaking views of the sea and the town at the top.

Victor ended up taking an obscene number of pictures, as they walked around the castle and poked around the exhibits inside, even stopping to put on some of the silly costumes and props. There was a particularly nice shot with the three of them standing outside the castle, taken by a kind passer-by, and Victor made a smug mental note to send it around the office when he got back.

After spending more than an hour at the castle, Yuuri realized that the triplets were probably home from school by now and suggested they drop by the ice skating rink before heading home, to which Victor had responded enthusiastically that they should ice skate as well.

Yuuko greeted them with a warm smile at the rink, and winked playfully at them as she handed them their skates and waved them past the barrier for free. Before Yuuri could protest, Victor had hurriedly pushed them past the barrier and into the locker room, thanking Yuuko gleefully for the treat.

They could hear excited squealing and laughing coming from the rink as they put on their rental skates, both having to re-tie them a few times to get the right tightness around their ankles. As they trudged heavily past the double doors to the rink, they could see the triplets already bickering over something on the ice. They flocked instantly to Yuuri, and seemed to fall into their old routine of skating together, as they showed him the new moves they’d learnt recently, one of them even managing an impressive spin.

Victor slipped a little on the ice, his muscles struggling to remember how to balance on the thin blades, slightly amazed that he’d forgotten how slippery the surface was. He’d taken lessons when he was younger and loved every minute of it, but the sport had gradually faded out of his life as he’d gotten busier.

Once he’d found his footing again, the sheer thrill of the freedom that came from gliding across the ice came rushing back. There was nothing that came close to this feeling. And it seemed from the pure bliss on Yuuri’s face as he skated that he felt the same. Victor smiled again at another odd connection he shared with Yuuri. Who knew what could have happened if both of them had continued ice skating? Victor grinned, perhaps they should visit his old rink in New York when they got back.

The time on the rink was well-spent, because Yuuri was in a state of unshakeable euphoria when they finally stepped off the ice, and his eyes shone brightly as he caught up with Yuuko and Takeshi about their lives. His calm, relaxed state continued when they returned to the inn for a long soak in the onsen, all through dinner, and even when they were holed up in Yuuri’s old room as he packed for the next two days. Victor had already packed yesterday, so he sat cross-legged on Yuuri’s bed, admiring the posters of ballet dancers plastered across the walls, and chatting lightly about things they could do in Tokyo. He’d read in the guidebook that the famous Daijingu Shrine was where people prayed for good relationships and good business, and since he needed all the luck he can get for both, he casually mentioned paying it a visit. To his surprise, Yuuri had blushed bright red, stuttering a little before replying in a dry voice that it sounded fun.  

When they were finally snuggled under the covers in the dark, Victor was supremely relieved that his mission was accomplished. Yuuri hadn’t fretted over his audition once, was kept in a constant good mood, and was so tired by the time they went to bed, he had fallen asleep immediately.

Victor’s last half-formed thought as he held on protectively to Yuuri, perhaps attempting to fend off bad dreams, had been, Tokyo here we come.

 

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Victor didn’t know what had possessed him to take public transport from the airport to the city center with their small suitcases. He huffed in annoyance as they waited on the platform for their train, with Yuuri smiling innocently beside him. They could have been in a comfortable limousine taxi headed straight for the city centre right now. Instead, they had dragged their suitcases around the airport trying to find the train station, and were now standing in the chill of the Tokyo air, the platform a sea of people waiting to pounce when the train arrived, albeit queueing politely in the designated areas.

It was his fault really. He had surprised Yuuri with the sudden request of taking the train from Hasetsu to Fukuoka Airport, instead of the car he’d booked. So, Yuuri had then assumed that Victor would be happy to do the same in Tokyo.

But that was _different_. Victor liked the train from Hasetsu to Fukuoka, it had sentimental value to him now. He loved the low rumble and gentle swaying as the train chugged along the tracks, taking a winding path that hugged the coastline, sometimes opening up the view to its vast blueness, sometimes dipping back behind the trees, where he could still catch glimpses of the cerulean sea.

This was nothing like that. When the train finally arrived, the throng had pushed them to a tight corner, and Victor was thankful of his height because it placed his head above the crowd so that he could breathe properly. He couldn’t even look out of the windows at the cityscape, and there was no chance of getting a seat. Yuuri was still smiling innocently at him, seeming perfectly content to stand for the next forty minutes.

Well. Victor supposed he’ll need to make some concessions, especially when Yuuri would finally find out about the kind of hotel he’d chosen for them. Besides, as they got closer to the city centre, it became quite entertaining to watch the commuters, some of whom had achieved the amazing feat of snoozing while standing.

When they reached their stop, they squeezed through the throng, trying to get to the door while trying not to hit anyone on the shin with their suitcases. Victor breathed a sigh of relief when they got off the train just before the doors closed again. They lugged their suitcases up the right exit, and emerged in the bustling city on the surface.

Victor immediately felt himself relaxing into the environment, as though he was once again on familiar ground. He lifted his head to survey the endless lines of buildings along the wide busy street, the air filled with the drone of relentless traffic, the pavement brimming with single-minded pedestrians power-walking to their destinations.

It reminded him so much of New York, but with interesting differences, like how the flow of people seemed to weave seamlessly into each other with minimal collision, how the streets were devoid of the familiar litter so prevalent in New York, how bicycles were included in the mix of the traffic, and of course how all the signs were unintelligible to him.  Much as he loved Hasetsu, his native habitat was a metropolitan city like this, and they blended easily into the stream of people, dragging their suitcases behind them as they made their way to the hotel.

The hotel was inspired by the traditional ryokan that once stood in its place. It had an unassuming exterior, with only a simple stone path leading from the pavement to the entrance, which was framed with vertical panels of wood, intending to evoke the essence of a bamboo forest. Even the front desk in the lobby was modest, and was an actual desk with comfy armchairs.

Yuuri only began to suspect they were in an upmarket hotel when the receptionist began pouring them green tea before they checked in. After the receptionist had confirmed they were staying for two nights, and gave them each a key, a concierge emerged to take their suitcases and show them their room.

Yuuri’s jaw slowly fell open when the door to their room slid open to reveal a stepped entranceway, which was partitioned off with a simple lattice wall, through which the large spacious room could be seen. Two pairs of authentic wooden sandals were perched next to a low cushioned seat that doubled as a shoe cupboard. The concierge carefully deposited their suitcases before retreating politely.

They took off their shoes and entered the room, feeling the plush carpet underneath their feet. The design was earthy and elegant, the modern amenities blending discreetly into the minimalistic wooden furniture. On the large king-sized bed were two sets of blue yukata robes that were folded in a neat square.

Victor went to open the delicate paper windows to let in some light, revealing the modern glass windows behind which shut out the noise from the city below. He set their keys on the simple mahogany work desk next to the windows, and walked over to the mini-bar area, where he popped a coffee capsule into the espresso machine.

Yuuri had wandered into the bathroom to explore, and Victor joined him while he waited for his coffee. He’d been drawn to this place because it combined the humility of the traditional ryokan with modern creature comforts, and luxury could be found in its meticulous details.

Yuuri was standing in the first half of the bathroom, which had all the typical modern fixtures like a walk-in shower, but what had him transfixed was the second half, which held the large round bath, intended to mimic a traditional private onsen, complete with a wooden stool and bucket.

After a while, Yuuri turned around and asked carefully, “Victor, did the receptionist say we were staying two nights?”

Ah, that had been the other issue he was hoping to avoid. They only needed one night really, because Yuuri’s audition would finish by the afternoon and they had booked a flight back for that evening. However, all the candidates were asked to stay in Tokyo until five pm, because the panel may call them in for a second audition if a consensus couldn’t be reached among the panel members about the calibre of the candidate. They may miss their flight if this happened, and Victor had booked two nights, just in case.

“We may need it,” he said casually, knowing that Yuuri was again worried about the expense, but Victor had taken a packed train for nearly an hour into the city, in exchange Yuuri should allow him this indulgence.

So, before Yuuri could reply, Victor drew him in firmly by the hips, gazing intently into his eyes, and added, “It’s too late to change things now, Yuuri. Let’s just enjoy our stay here.” He smiled as he captured Yuuri’s lips possessively with his own to drown out any protests, which seemed to work because Yuuri immediately deepened the kiss and pressed their bodies closer together, his hand sliding under Victor’s shirt to touch the bare skin of his back, reminding Victor of how discreet they’d had to be these past few days, surrounded by Yuuri’s family.

When they surfaced for air, Yuuri was panting slightly, his cheeks flushed, as he said, “We need lunch.”

Victor chuckled at the sudden turn to mundane matters, and leaned in for another quick kiss. Since the Daijingu Shrine had been the only thing they’d agreed on visiting, he suggested, “We could head in the direction of the Daijingu Shrine and see what we find?”

To his surprise, his mention of the Daijingu Shrine made Yuuri blush even harder, and he cleared his throat nervously before replying, “Could we- could we stop at a shop at the Okachimachi area first? It’s only 15 minutes away from here, on foot.”

“Sure,” said Victor, suddenly intrigued at Yuuri’s vagueness, “As long as we’re back here before seven. I made a reservation at the hotel restaurant downstairs.”

 

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Victor was getting annoyed. They’d had lunch near the hotel, and then had moved on to the Okachimachi area, which Victor had read in the guidebook was the jewelry district in Tokyo. However, they’ve been circling this area for half an hour, passing rows and rows of bustling shops that began to blend into a cacophonous mix of colours, sign boards and people. All of them looked the same to Victor, and most of them sold nearly the same things, like jewelry, watches, accessories, even bars of precious metal. So he was pretty sure that with all the competition in the area, Yuuri could have gone into _any_ store and still get a decent price for _whatever_ he wanted to buy. He certainly wasn’t sure why they were walking around in circles, with Yuuri holding his phone in the air to catch a better GPS signal, trying to find a _specific_ store, when they should be on their way to the Daijingu Shrine before the sun sets, and then make it back in time for their dinner reservation. But Yuuri had refused to explain what he was looking for, instead he kept looking nervously at the street signs and shop names.

Thankfully, before Victor could descend into eye-rolling territory, Yuuri had exclaimed in relief, “ _Aa-- Yokatta!_ I mean, I found it!”

He was pointing to a tiny shop with its sign partially obscured by the gaudy banners and flags from the larger stores next to it. Based on the glimmering items in the display window, it seemed to be another jewellery shop, and they must have passed it by a few times already, because Victor certainly remembered the adjacent stores.

There was a small tinkling sound overhead when Yuuri pushed the door open, and a friendly shopkeeper came out from the backroom to greet them. As Yuuri conversed in Japanese with the shopkeeper, Victor looked around the shop curiously, wondering what Yuuri would buy.

The displays were arranged in a horseshoe shape that spanned the whole shop, leaving just enough space for the shopkeeper and a few customers to navigate easily. Victor surveyed the available stock and realized the shop seemed to specialize in products made of precious metals, but mainly gold, silver and platinum, ranging from brooches and pendants to earrings and piercings, with none of them designed to hold precious stones. There was even a large selection of traditional wedding bands, though it seemed like the Japanese preferred the subtler platinum than gold, because there were more designs for the former.

Victor was examining a peculiar pendant that was cunningly crafted to look like a roll of toilet paper, when the shopkeeper disappeared into the backroom again. Yuuri turned around to look at him, saying in an embarrassed voice, “Sorry we had to walk around so much. But I bought you a gift, and only this shop had the right size in stock, so...”

Victor’s eyes widened in surprise, but before he could respond, the shopkeeper returned with a light blue paper bag with the shop’s logo. He handed it to Yuuri with a small bow, who received the bag politely, but retrieved its contents and slipped them into his coat pocket, before returning the bag to the shopkeeper. Then, with his face a deep crimson, he said hurriedly to Victor, “Should we go to Daijingu now?” before walking swiftly out of the shop, leaving a confused Victor to follow.

Yuuri had been slightly restless throughout their short subway ride across Tokyo, probably due to the unknown gift that was sitting in his pocket, especially because he had left a protective hand over it ever since they left the shop. Victor was slightly dazed and completely confused at why Yuuri would keep the gift hidden now that he had collected it, but was mostly intrigued by what Yuuri had bought for him.

They alighted a few stops later, and walked the short distance to the shrine in silence. However, when they passed through the towering wooden shrine gate that stood at the entrance, they saw a procession walking slowly up the steps that led to the Daijingu shrine itself. At the head of the procession was a couple dressed in sombre, traditional Japanese clothes, followed a few steps behind by a man holding a long red umbrella above them. Behind them were two lines of people dressed in different styles of formal wear, though the men were mostly in suits. Victor asked quietly whether it was a wedding procession, since the Daijingu was associated with love and relationships, to which Yuuri had nodded with a slight blush.

They waited until the procession had entered the shrine, before following them up the stairs, and stopped at a respectful distance away. Victor frowned slightly at the soon-to-be happy couple who had gone past the purple drapes hanging from the eaves. He wanted to try a Shinto prayer and ring the bell at the shrine if they had one, but now all they could do was wander around the courtyard until the ceremony was over.

He turned to Yuuri and asked, “Do you want to go somewhere else?”

Yuuri cast a brief glance around the courtyard, before smiling a little nervously at Victor as he said, “No, here will be fine.”

Victor raised his eyebrows at his reply. Fine for what? But before he could say anything, Yuuri reached his hand into his pocket and drew out two small velvet boxes, one jet black and the other navy blue. He held on lightly to the boxes, his eyes slightly averted and his voice quivering a little, as he explained, “I-erm, I bought you a gift to thank you for everything you’ve done for me. And I bought a similar one for myself, s-so it could be a good luck charm for my audition tomorrow.” His eyes darted quickly upwards to meet Victor’s, as if trying to gauge Victor’s reaction, before hesitantly offering Victor the black velvet box, as he quickly added, “You don’t have to wear it.”

Victor took the box gently from Yuuri’s outstretched hand, and opened it carefully. He felt a sudden constriction in his throat, his breath rapidly evaporating, when he saw what was inside. It was a simple, elegant platinum wedding band, its silvery shimmer a sharp contrast to the black velvet cushion it was nested in, exactly like the ones he’d seen on display in the shop. His lips fell open slightly as he lifted his eyes to look at Yuuri’s worried face, and then down at the blue box that Yuuri was clutching in a shaking hand, almost certain that it contained the same ring, but of Yuuri’s size.

Victor blinked back his tears that were threatening to escape, trying to control his breathing as his own hands shivered slightly from the implications of Yuuri’s actions. Yuuri who had said this was only a thank you gift, or a good luck charm. But Yuuri who had given him a platinum wedding band, a universal symbol of constancy, given it to him in a place where a wedding ceremony was taking place a few feet away, where people came to pray for lasting love. Yuuri, who was blushing furiously, whose hands were trembling, as he reached out to Victor for something, but was afraid of the answer he might get, and was unwilling to coerce Victor into something he didn’t want.

So, Yuuri had been worried about their uncertain future together after all, and had known on some level that it would seep into his performance tomorrow. But Yuuri’s solution to his worries wasn’t to plan for a future they couldn’t see, or to change the circumstances they couldn’t control. Everything that Victor had tried and failed. The sheer simplicity of Yuuri’s solution took his breath away, he was asking for Victor’s commitment. As long as he knew that Victor wanted to commit, and would try his best to make their relationship work, it would be enough for him. Wasn’t that enough for most people?

There was no doubt that Victor wanted to commit. He wanted to do everything in his power to make this relationship work, and he has never wanted something so much in his life. He just thought it wouldn’t be enough for Yuuri. But if it was precisely was Yuuri needed, then he would give it freely.

And to make sure Yuuri knew what his answer was, he gently closed the box and returned it to Yuuri’s empty hand, before carefully easing the blue box out of Yuuri’s tight grasp, which contained the matching ring. He opened it to admire the subtler sheen of silver against the navy blue, and removed the smaller ring from its slot. Marveling at the smoothness and weight of the material, he lifted Yuuri’s left hand, before slipping it down Yuuri’s ring finger, where it nestled comfortably. He held on to Yuuri’s quivering fingers a while, gazing at the glint of platinum against his skin, before lifting his head to smile tenderly at Yuuri. There was a look of disbelief on Yuuri’s face, which gradually transformed into wonder and relief as he fought back the tears that were pooling in his eyes. In response, Yuuri swiftly opened the black box to remove the larger ring, and Victor offered his left hand to Yuuri without hesitation, soon feeling the cool metal sliding down his own finger.

They looked at each other with dazed expressions, surrounded by the sounds of chanting from the wedding ceremony in the shrine. They were not sure what to call the ritual they’d just perform, and it certainly meant little to the outside world. But as Victor felt the smooth surface of the metal against his skin, he knew that it meant far more than the ceremony he will be performing with Mila in the near future.

 

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Victor couldn’t bring himself to notice the exquisite meal laid out before him. Ever since their wordless exchange that afternoon, his whole mind had been dominated by one thought, and one thought only, that he was now Yuuri’s, and Yuuri was his.

His Yuuri.

His Yuuri, who was only an arm’s length from him, radiating a light-hearted joy as they sat with their knees touching under the table, but the distance still felt too far. His Yuuri, whose entire attention was lavished on whatever they had ordered for dinner, making enticing noises of appreciation, while he had remained transfixed on the plump redness of Yuuri’s lips that he wanted to run his thumb across. His Yuuri, whose hand was now embellished with a glint of metal that constantly caught Victor’s eye, and he wanted to leave trails of slow kisses on each slender finger.

When they finally left the restaurant to return to their room, Victor drew Yuuri close to him, feeling the press of their bodies and breathing in his familiar, intoxicating scent, begrudging even the mere hour they had spent apart at the dinner table. Victor could feel the surge of desire coursing through him, his mind clouded by the thought that he wanted to be fully and completely claimed by Yuuri, when up until now, Yuuri had always been the recipient. He struggled to remember why they’d never done it before this, but Yuuri had never asked, and always seemed to love being filled by Victor. He shuddered as he imagined the impossible fullness of Yuuri deep within him.

But when they reached their room, Yuuri seemed oblivious to the maddening lust that had overtaken Victor’s mind, as he gave Victor a quick peck on the lips before pulling away to discard his clothes in a messy pile and disappearing into the bathroom. Victor could hear him running the large bath, as he washed himself, and then the a low hum of pleasure as he lowered his battered and aching body into the hot water.

Victor ventured into the bathroom soon after but found that Yuuri had somehow managed to hog  the entire bath by himself, his head leaning against the edge, his eyes closed in a catatonic stupor. He had seemed too comfortable to move, so Victor had opted for a disappointing shower alone.

When he came out of the bathroom, wearing the yukata provided by the hotel, he found Yuuri lounging casually on the bed. His hair still wet, his glasses folded on the bedside table, his back against the headboard, his blue yukata tied loosely around his body, with one leg tucked underneath him, the other stretched out before him, revealing enticing portions of skin, as he scrolled lazily through his phone.

The provocative sight had been too much for Victor, and he rummaged quickly through his suitcase, to retrieve the condoms and lube he had brought with him, before he was straddling a startled Yuuri on the bed, as he dropped the items next to them.

“V-victor,” gasped Yuuri in surprise, “I can’t. The audition.”

Victor gently caressed Yuuri’s cheeks, and said softly, “Don’t worry. You won’t feel a thing tomorrow.”

Yuuri’s eyes widened, his pupils dilating visibly at the implications of Victor’s words, his breathing becoming more rapid, as he nodded wordlessly.

Victor immediately leaned in to capture Yuuri’s waiting lips, cradling the sides of his face protectively, as he ground their hips together, their lips locked in passion, and their arousal evident through the cotton fabric.

When both their lips were red and swollen, Victor reached out for the bottle of lube beside them and coated three fingers generously, before reaching behind to open himself up, all the while keeping his eyes on Yuuri, who seemed to be hypnotized as he watched Victor prepared himself. Victor panted with the pleasure of the intrusion as he pumped one, then two fingers in himself, and moaned aloud when Yuuri reached into the folds of his yukata and wrapped one hand around his cock, moving in time with Victor’s actions.

When Victor could slide three fingers into his entrance with ease, he threw aside the fabric obscuring Yuuri’s cock and found that it was already hard and waiting. He removed his fingers from himself, reached for the condom lying beside them, and tore it open impatiently, before rolling it down Yuuri’s length and adding a generous amount of lube of over it.

Yuuri’s hands were resting on his hips, as he braced one hand on Yuuri’s shoulder, and used his other hand to position Yuuri’s erection at his entrance. Their eyes were locked in an intense gaze, as Victor slowly began to sink himself down onto the hard length, which elicited a small moan from Yuuri. He gasped in mixed pain and pleasure at the burning stretch of his clenching muscles, feeling the tightening grip of Yuuri’s fingers on his hips. As he gradually became accustomed to the intrusion, he placed both hands on Yuuri’s shoulders and lowered himself further until he was fully seated,and rested his forehead against Yuuri’s, as he breathed through the initial discomfort.

Yuuri’s eyes were glazed over with pleasure, his breath ragged at the new sensations, as he held back the urge to thrust upwards into Victor, one hand returning its grip on Victor’s cock, while the other continued to leave deep imprints on Victor’s hips. When the pleasure of being filled overtook the pain, Victor began to move, pressing hard into Yuuri’s shoulder, as he threw back his head, and relished the electrifying sensation of Yuuri opening him up as his muscles rippled around the heat of Yuuri’s hardness. Yuuri began to meet him with upward thrusts, the change in angle brushing past the bundle of nerves in his prostate, which drew out a loud cry of pleasure from Victor, as he increased his pace.

The rapid pumping of Yuuri’s hand on his cock and the fullness of having Yuuri deep inside him began to push him closer to the edge, as his groans took on a new intensity at the twin assault on his senses, matched by Yuuri’s desperate jagged breaths. Just as he was near the edge, Yuuri gasped, “Vicchan, come with me.” And Victor was nearly shouting as he slammed himself few more times onto Yuuri’s cock, before collapsing onto Yuuri’s torso, as his cum spilled over into Yuuri’s tight grip. At the same time, he could feel Yuuri biting down on his shoulder to muffle his cries, and a pulsing deep within him as Yuuri came.

They stayed like this a while, as they regained their breaths, their bodies slick with sweat, still connected, with Victor draped limply over Yuuri, utterly satiated and content.

Yuuri was the first to stir, as he gently slipped out of Victor, and discarded the used condom in the bin. Victor was led drowsily to the bathroom for a quick shower, and sighed in satisfaction when they finally crawled back under the covers. He toyed idly with the ring on Yuuri’s finger as they gradually drifted off to sleep, his dreams already cocooned in a profound sense of certainty that made him feel, for the first time in his life, completely safe.

 

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Yuuri’s gaze was steely as they stood across the road from the audition venue. The Tokyo Bunka Kaikan was a stately building that stood proudly on the edge of a spacious public park, and was the principal performance venue of the Tokyo Ballet.

Yuuri was taking deep breaths to steady his nerves as he prepared himself to enter the main doors directly ahead of them. His eyebrows creased with a slight nervousness, but the fierceness of his glare told Victor that he was completely in control of himself, and nothing could distract him from the task ahead.

He would be in there for three to four hours, and Victor wouldn’t be allowed in, so they’d have to part soon.

“I’ll be here waiting when you come out,” said Victor in a calm voice.

Yuuri gave him a small confident smile, and said, “ _Ittekimasu,_ ” before he crossed the street and strode with sure steps towards the main entrance.

Victor watched his retreating back, and seeing the set of his shoulders that betrayed a frightening certainty made something clicked in Victor’s mind. He no longer entertained the idea that Yuuri would fail. In that instant, his whole reality shifted and he began treating Yuuri’s future presence here, in this city, performing in that very venue ahead of him, as fact rather than probability.

Perhaps because of the ring on his finger, and a renewed sense of security in their relationship, he could feel his mind whirring to life again, no longer paralyzed by fears of the unknown. As his cool, composed rationality settled back into place, he once again found the part of his mind that allowed him to accept the constraints of his environment without emotion or wishful thinking, and as always to find a shrewd way around it.

He spent the hours walking through the large park in the surrounding area, absent-mindedly passing tourists, joggers and dog-walkers, occasionally finding a bench to sit on, while he examined the one clear but nearly impossible solution that was slowly opening up before him. His mind began brimming with ideas, as he tried to fit the awkward shape of his vision into reality, trying to navigate through the company’s intricate power structure, through the delicate balance of reputation, responsibilities and emotions.

When he’d circled the large lake in the park a few times, his feet somehow took him to the entrance of the zoo that was housed in the park, Tokyo’s oldest zoo, supplied his mind helpfully from the guidebook he’d read. Before he realized what he was doing, he’d bought a ticket and found himself surrounded by excited children and the sounds of exotic animals.

He laughed in bewilderment at the oddity of his situation, but since he was already in the zoo, he decided to look around, and let his ideas stew at the back of his mind. He could almost see the shape of a plan in his mind’s eye, but with a thousand details threatening to derail his main vision, and a thousand loopholes for failure that could make him shrink away in fear, he needed to take a step back and allow his subconscious to mull over this complex decision that he was about make.

With that thought, he began to enjoy the exhibits on display at the zoo, standing out like a sore thumb as he joined the groups of excited children peering into the penguin display, and up at the edgy antics of various monkeys. He even spent an inordinate amount of time looking for the elusive aye-aye in the darkness of the nocturnal exhibits, and then regretted it immediately when he finally locked eyes with the deranged gaze of the aye-aye that would probably begin to feature in his nightmares. He’d left the nocturnal exhibits quickly after that to recover beside the serene presence of graceful giraffes and antelopes.

The distraction seemed to have worked because when it was nearly time for him to meet Yuuri at the agreed spot, he had nearly arrived at a decision. It would be difficult, and chances are that he would fail anyway. But he was almost certain he knew what he had to do.

It wasn’t long until Yuuri came bursting out of the main entrance, looking exhausted but composed, his body quivering from the adrenaline rush, but his head still held high. When he saw Victor, his lips formed a delicate smile, as though he wasn’t sure what the panel thought of him, but he wasn’t displeased with his performance.

If even Yuuri, the harshest critic of his own dance, wasn’t agonizing over his mistakes, then there must have been few, and that was yet another barrier removed from the road to his dreams.

Just as well that Yuuri’s future here was becoming more solid.

Just as well, thought Victor as he beamed and waved happily at Yuuri, because he had decided to take the leap of faith and plunge into the impossible task of paving his own road to Tokyo.

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone's interested, picture of an [aye-aye ](http://imgur.com/a/g1OAf).
> 
> I'm on [Tumblr ](https://weberina.tumblr.com/)! Come n chat :D  
> All comments welcomed!


	10. The Gift of the Firebird

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like this chapter!! We're so near the end......I feel sad already :'(  
> Beta'd by my amazing sister :D

 

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Oh god not again, thought Yuuri, as each jerk and bump in the plane threatened to bring up the contents of his stomach. He had fully extended his seat as soon as the seatbelt signs were off, and had curled into a small ball under the blankets provided, his eyes shut tightly as he tried to focus on breathing.  Victor was in the same state beside him, though he was slumped in his seat, still wearing his sunglasses because the light in the cabin hurt his eyes, and was taking weary sips from a glass of orange juice.

His family had thrown them another party yesterday before they returned to New York, and what was supposed to be a short celebration had gone on into the wee hours of the night. Even the triplets had stayed past midnight. And the alcohol had flowed very freely, despite the prospect of a long-haul flight looming in their immediate future.

At least the alcohol hadn’t blocked out large chunks of his memory, like the last major hangover he had. But then again, the blackout might have been a blessing, because this time, he clearly remembered the embarrassing things he had done without his inhibitions, all of which had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now made him cringe inwardly at the memory. Like doing the energetic _Ika-odori_ squid-dance on the table, just because someone challenged him to, vaguely recalling that his father had joined in. Or making out with Victor in a corner of the room, in _full view_ of his family. He remembered giggling a lot, his alcohol-pickled mind convincing him that no one was looking at them. They clearly were.

The plane hit an area of turbulence, and the seatbelt signs came on again. But Yuuri didn’t even bother sitting up, fully intending to remain lying down until the flight attendant told him off. He heard Victor letting out a painful groan from his seat, as he tried to shift his body and clip his seatbelt together, earning no sympathy from Yuuri because he and Minako-sensei had been as bad as each other, egging each other on with cup after cup of sake. When Yuuri tried to stop them, they’d only dragged him into a drinking game that he now bitterly regretted.

Actually, he remembered with another cringe, the most embarrassing thing had been during the drinking game, when a drunk Minako-sensei had asked an equally-drunk Victor whether he’d move to Japan if Yuuri gets in. Yuuri had been so far-gone at that point that he’d cut in before Victor could answer, and said, “You mean _when_ I get in. And of course he’ll be coming, because, be-because, I gave him a ring, see, and that means he _has_ to come.” He had held up their matching rings, as Victor burst out laughing, and everyone had crowded around to gawp at them. He was fairly certain his mother had mentioned the word ‘wedding’ a few times.

He groaned inwardly at the memory, trying to make himself disappear. He’d spent the best part of this morning trying to explain to his family that the rings were only good luck charms, and they weren’t actually engaged or getting married. And that he wasn’t sure if Victor was able to move to Tokyo. Or even if he himself would move back to Japan, because there were so many good candidates at the audition and he was just one of many. No one had listened to a word.

His only consolation was that Victor seemed to have been drunk enough to have forgotten about the exchange. Or, at least, he wasn't showing any signs that he remembered it. Which made sense, because he had drunk about twice as much as Yuuri, thanks to Minako-sensei, and had been an incoherent mess when they stumbled to bed at dawn. However, Yuuri made doubly sure that his family didn't mention anything to do with the incident when Victor finally crawled out of bed, just in case.

Yuuri felt a touch on his shoulder and heard a polite voice saying, “Mr. Katsuki, I’m afraid you’ll have to wear your seatbelt. But you can remain lying down and wear it over your blanket.” Yuuri emerged reluctantly from his warm nest and looked blearily at the flight attendant. He should probably sit up now anyway, because they were going to serve food soon, and a good meal might just tame his churning stomach.

The flight attendant gave him a sympathetic look as he struggled to sit up and said kindly, “Would you like me to get you a hot towel and some orange juice, Sir?” Yuuri nodded appreciatively at her, afraid that he would throw up if he spoke.

Before she turned to leave, Victor stirred from his seat and croaked in a dry voice, “For me too, thank you.”

The flight attendant gave them both a wry smile and said, “Not a problem. I’ll be right back.”

Yuuri rested his head against the seat and dropped it sideways to look at Victor, giving him a small grin that said, we must be quite the sight. Victor smiled haggardly at him, and replied weakly, “It was all worth it.“

Looking at Victor’s lanky figure slouching in the seat, his hair oddly limp and unkempt, his eyes closed behind the sunglasses, Yuuri’s gaze wandered involuntarily down to the glint of platinum on Victor's hand, which was clutching an empty glass.

Once again, he wondered whether he should ask Victor if he remembered what had been said last night. Because if he did remember, then Yuuri wanted to make it clear that he wasn’t expecting Victor to move to Tokyo, _if_ he was successful. He hadn’t been thinking about anything beyond the audition when he’d bought the rings. In fact, he hadn’t been thinking about anything else in the past few weeks, only that he needed to do well, so that he wouldn’t be a disappointment to Victor, to Lilia, to his family, and to his teachers. He’d decided to forget about what came after, and focus on this crucial point in time.

But when Victor had disappeared from the inn the morning before they left for Tokyo, all his doubts had come crashing back. He had been so terrified that Victor would want to end things when they returned to New York, despite all the other evidence that suggested otherwise. It would make things simpler after all, and with the engagement looming so near... Yuuri just needed a confirmation that they both wanted to stay together for as long as possible, regardless of whether he was successful. He certainly wasn’t asking anything from Victor.

But Victor had surprised him by making them exchange the rings instead, leaving no room for doubt that he was committed to the relationship, and that had stolen Yuuri’s breath away. Now that the audition was over, there was no running away from thinking about their future.

The only path that Yuuri could see working was if Victor could perhaps take over the Japan project, and maybe he’d be able to visit regularly, enough to keep the relationship going. But he didn’t know how bring up the topic without letting his words be steeped in his hope that Victor would come with him to Tokyo. If this wasn’t possible, it would put an unfair pressure on Victor to make yet another drastic change in his life for Yuuri, and he didn’t deserve that.

The flight attendant returned with a small tray that held several hot towels and four glasses of orange juice. Yuuri took the items gratefully, and let out a small moan as the heat temporarily soothed away the tension in his face. He heard Victor dropping his sunglasses on the tray table with a clatter, and practically inhaled the steam coming from the towel. He followed it up by taking large gulps of orange juice, and then slumping back in his seat with a sigh of relief.

Yuuri followed suit, and when he felt more human again, able to sit upright without his head spinning, he reached his hand across the seat and laced his fingers through Victor’s. Victor squeezed his hand slightly, a small smile playing across his face, though his eyes were still closed.

He seemed so perfectly content, despite his wretched state, just to be holding Yuuri’s hand, and he had seemed so willing to give his heart to Yuuri that Yuuri was almost sure if he even mentioned moving to Tokyo, Victor would probably start coming up with all sorts of crazy ideas that would jeopardize his career and his company. Georgi’s words from the last time he was at the Nikiforov mansion were still fresh in his mind, warning them that one false move could destroy something that Victor had fought so hard to keep, and reminding him of how fragile their reality was.

Yuuri felt the light tracing of Victor’s thumb across the back of his hand, and marveled at how this simple contact could still send a thrill of joy through him. Perhaps there were other ways to find out whether the possibility of Victor moving to Tokyo was feasible. If it wasn't, then at least Yuuri would know, and they’d be no worse off than their current state. But if it was, then Yuuri might decide to be selfish and ask for one more thing.

 

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The start of the semester was a whirlwind of activity, as the seniors were whipped into a frenzy with their preparations for the daunting Repertory performances. With slightly more than two weeks to go, everything else had to be set aside, including the Senior Dance Production that came later in the year. Even their daily ballet classes were shortened slightly to make allowances, as they spent hours refining the demanding group performances, which would be interleaved with several solos and duets. Some of the seniors were already on the verge of panic as they struggled to perfect the last few elements of their pieces with the performance looming near.

Oddly enough, Yuuri felt fairly calm.

He was quite comfortable with his parts in the group performances, fairly certain that he had enough time to smooth out the remaining rough edges, and eternally grateful that he’d been spared one of the dances, which was so bizarre that the choreographer had instructed the dancers to ignore the music at points.

He was much more confident with his Firebird duet with Richardo, now that both their techniques had been sharpened by Lilia, and Yuuri could connect emotionally with the firebird. He still wasn’t entirely happy with the last bit of the duet, where the firebird frolics with Prince Ivan in the garden after their intense struggle, and then gives him a feather. Lilia had said that in this part, the firebird is coming to terms with being defeated, and then gives Prince Ivan the feather because her pride didn’t allow her to be indebted to be a mere mortal for sparing her life. It all made sense, but he couldn’t quite identify with this storyline, not truly. Nonetheless, at least he understood it, and it was something he could fall back on.

He’d even found the time to work a bit more on his choreography for the Senior Dance Production. Cecilia had been a genius. Once she had a concrete theme to work with, the music had been beyond this world, the rolling notes effortlessly capturing the uplifting joy and deep longing of love, how it quickened the pulse and stopped the heart, and how it swept you away but held you firmly to the ground. Yuuri had immediately recognized the emotion that emanated from the new melody, and his choreography had quickly adjusted itself to fit the music, flowing with an easy grace that finally came close to the elation that he wanted to convey as they reached the pinnacle of their time in Juilliard.

He wasn’t even all that nervous about the audition results. He’d expected his nerves to be frayed from worrying, knowing that his performance had been far from perfect, but deep down he also knew that he really had done all he could, and there was nothing he could do now, in any case.

It was actually a good thing that he felt so in control, because Victor had thrown himself with renewed fervour into his work, and seemed to be perpetually tense and flustered ever since they got back from Japan. Yuuri couldn't imagine what it would be like if  _both_ of them were stressed at the same time. 

Victor had started leaving the office well past midnight on most days, and while this didn't really bother Yuuri, because they still woke up together, it was an odd reversal of his previous trend before they went to Japan, where he had tried to come back before Yuuri went to bed, even managing to have dinner at the apartment on some days. He had also begun to take phone calls from Jason or Georgi in the apartment, sometimes over breakfast or in the dead of night, which again didn't really bother Yuuri, but it was another thing that Victor didn't use to do.

What had truly worried him was when Victor mentioned he'd forgotten to eat the whole day but had been too exhausted to find food by the time he remembered. After that, Yuuri began doubling the amount he made for dinner and kept the leftovers in the fridge, in case the same thing happened again. He has yet to find the tupperware full the next morning. Other than that, Yuuri could only keep a watchful eye and offer his comfort where he could, as Victor kept up his insane and perplexing pace of work. Yuuri tried to reason that Victor was just trying to catch up with everything after his holiday, but it was beginning to seem a bit excessive. One good thing did come of it, however, because it gave Yuuri the unexpected opportunity to find out more about the Japan project without Victor’s presence.

The opportunity came in the form of the regular Sunday work brunch with Victor’s core team. It was probably a stretch to call it a work brunch now, because the others had taken a cue from Victor, and began bringing whoever they were seeing at the time, while still charging everything to the company account.

But Victor had to bail out at the last minute for an important meeting, and had dragged Georgi along to it. Sara wasn’t in town. Chris wanted to keep his mystery man a mystery. And Georgi had just been dumped. So, it would only be Yuuri, Mila and Chris, which definitely did not qualify as work brunch. But Mila had insisted that they met up anyway, since everything was booked and they could easily do a proper one next week. Yuuri eventually agreed to show up, even though it seemed a bit extravagant for just the three of them to have the entire private room.

As he stepped into the classy dining area of the Lafayette Grand Café, the familiar aroma of freshly-baked breads mixed with sizzling steaks wafted through the air, and he treaded lightly across the dark walnut flooring, clutching several gift bags in his hands. The hostess smiled at him as he approached and said, “Good to see you, Mr. Katsuki.” Yuuri nodded shyly at her as he walked towards the stairs leading to the private room. This was the fourth time he’d been invited to the brunch, and he was still in awe of the fact that the hostess knew his name.

He struggled to slide open the doors to the private room with his hands full. Chris eventually came to his aid after hearing the commotion, beaming brightly as he stepped aside to let Yuuri in, and drawled seductively, “Hello, Yuuri. Glad to see you made it back in one piece.”

“Thanks, Chris,” he replied with an involuntary blush, Chris somehow managed to make everything sound like an innuendo. He stepped into the room and placed the bags on the large dining table across from Mila, who was resting her chin lightly on her hand and grinning at him.

“Hey, Mila,” he greeted her with a smile, her presence always seemed to bring a light-heartedness to any room.

“How was your audition?” she asked with an interested look, “I mean, Victor’s told us everything, but I like to double check what he says.”

Yuuri chuckled appreciatively. Victor was partially to blame for Yuuri’s family thinking that he’d definitely be back in Japan by the end of the year, and they had started making plans. He shrugged as he replied, “I’m not very sure. But the results shouldn’t be too long now.”

“Are those the souvenirs from Japan?” asked Chris eagerly, pointing at the bags, as he sat down at the head of the table.

Yuuri nodded with a smile, and began sorting out the presents, “Victor keeps forgetting to take them with him to the office, so I thought I should bring them with me today. We hope you like them.”

They’d spent several hours after the audition shopping for souvenirs, and had bought yukata sets for Chris, Mila and Georgi, after Yuuri had dissuaded Victor from buying the happi and fundoshi set for Chris; an _Inden_ leather purse for Darlene; a bottle of Japanese whisky for Yakov; and various Japanese sweets, cookies, dolls and good luck charms for Victor’s teams, which Chris had offered to drop off at the office after brunch. They’d also bought Lilia a delicate _washi_ doll dressed in an elaborate kimono and housed in a glass case, which Victor had said would complement Lilia’s decor perfectly, but Yuuri would have to bring that along to their next lesson.

As Mila and Chris ooh-ed and aah-ed at their new yukata sets, Mila’s a tasteful black highlighted by subtle purple flowers, and Chris’ a flashy blue with a golden dragon on the back, Yuuri suddenly remembered another item he needed to point out to them. He rummaged through the bags until he found the comfy long-sleeved T-shirt with a fearsome tiger on its front, and said, “And this T-shirt, could you give it to Yuri Plisetsky?”

Mila cracked up when she saw the T-shirt and gasped, “Oh my goodness, where did you find that? He’ll love it. I think I’ll see him tomorrow at the Nikiforov mansion.” Yuuri couldn’t help smiling at her reaction, considering Yurio’s obsession with cats, it had seemed like an appropriate gift.

When they’d finally put away the souvenirs and ordered their food, Yuuri began wondering whether Chris and Mila were the right people to ask about the Japan project, given that they weren’t directly involved in it. But they were the closest to Victor, and probably knew everything that was going on.

He glanced up anxiously at them, and bit the inside of his bottom lip as he tried to find the correct words. Mila seemed to have caught his hesitation, and asked with concern, “Is something the matter, Yuuri?”

Yuuri swallowed nervously, as he looked at her, and eventually said, “Well, I was wondering whether _if_ I get into the Tokyo Ballet, whether there’s a chance that Victor might spend more time on the Japan project, and we could continue seeing each other. But I didn’t want to ask Victor directly, because I was afraid he might, I mean, in case he-”

“In case he does something stupid,” Chris cut in, finishing Yuuri’s thought and giving him a small grin, “We know.” Yuuri blushed slightly, his presence at the brunch was proof enough that it was a genuine worry.

A thoughtful silence hung in the air, and Yuuri waited patiently for their answer, his gazing falling naturally on his clasped hands.

Finally, Mila cleared her throat and Yuuri looked up to see a serious look on her face, as she asked carefully, “Can I be blunt about this? I don’t want to create any misunderstandings.”

Yuuri looked intently at her and replied in a firm voice, “Please be. I’d prefer it.”

Mila hesitated, casting a sideways glance at Chris, whose expression was equally serious, before returning her steady gaze on Yuuri, and said simply, “I don’t think it’s feasible.”

Yuuri tried to keep his face neutral as Mila continued, not wanting the sinking feeling in his heart to show on his face, and not wanting her to soften the blow because of his distress. However, as Mila gave him more details, he couldn’t control the disappointment from seeping into his expression, and felt the concern growing in Chris’ eyes.

But his gaze never wavered from Mila, listening carefully to her every word as she talked about how the Japan project was still so small that it didn’t have a fixed office in Tokyo and that even assigning Jason permanently to it had been overkill. About how Victor had actually tried to rush it a few times, and was nearly barred from being involved. About how there was no one to take over the Russian project if Victor left, and how many people would be affected if it failed. About Victor’s father, and the convoluted emotional ties that bound him to the company.

When Mila finished, he took a deep breath to clear his mind of the heaviness that had settled on him, and he thanked Mila for letting him know the facts. The bottom line was that they’d probably go two to three years, probably longer, without seeing much of each other if Yuuri moved to Tokyo, and it wasn’t much worse that he’d expected.

Thankfully, the door slid open soon after and the servers brought in the usual selection of pastries and breads, followed quickly by their main dishes. A welcome distraction from their gloomy reality. And Yuuri could have lost himself in the exquisite and delectable brunch, if Chris hadn’t added half jokingly, “But it’s Victor we’re talking about, of course. So, he’s probably already working on a madcap idea.”

Despite Chris’ light-hearted tone, Yuuri had sensed the real concern behind it, and a niggling anxiety began brewing in his mind. Victor had been working unusually hard since they got back, and his expression was often shadowed by a strange brooding. But, surely, even Victor wouldn’t think to risk his work again?

 

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Yuuri knew that something was definitely going on when he woke up to find an unfamiliar coolness to the sheets beside him. Makkachin shifted slightly at the foot of the bed as he sat up and saw that the covers next to him hadn’t been slept in. He reached towards the nightstand for his phone, and dismissed his alarm, trying not read too much into Victor’s absence.

But this was the first time it’s happened in many weeks without prior warning about a dinner at the mansion, or an extended business trip, which could only mean that Victor had spent the night in the office again. Yuuri vaguely considered sending Victor a message to check where and how he was, but felt as though it would be too intrusive if he did. Instead, he got out of bed, scratched Makkachin on the head, and got dressed for his morning run, which always helped when he was feeling restless.

He didn’t hear from Victor for the rest of the day, making him fidget nervously through his rehearsals and classes, even causing Phichit to comment over lunch that he seemed oddly distracted. But Yuuri had only shaken his head and said it was nothing. It probably was nothing, and he wasn’t sure why he was being so antsy.

The answer to his uneasiness came at the end of the day as he was packing up to leave. His phone went off shrilly in the locker room, and when he picked it up, he was surprised to see a message from Chris on the screen.

 **Hey Yuuri. You free now?** 19:32

 **Yeah sure. I’m about to go home. What’s up?** 19:32

 **Could you stop by the office on the way?** **  
** **There’s a man-sized child here for you to collect.** 19:33

Yuuri laughed aloud at Chris’ remark, and couldn’t help thinking, Oh dear, what’s Victor done now, as he typed out his reply.

 **Is he ok?** 19:33

 **Yes but he’s falling asleep at his desk. Literally. And refuses to go home.** 19:33

 **Did he stay at the office last night too?** 19:33

Yuuri frowned at Chris’ question. His concern was palpable, and if even Chris didn’t know about a dinner or event, then Victor probably did.

 **Yes. I think so.** 19:34

 **I’ll be right there.** 19:34

By the time Yuuri arrived at the office, Victor was already dozing lightly with his head nested in his folded arms on the desk. Judging by the worried glances of the other staff in the office, Yuuri began to think that it was highly unusual for them to see Victor like this, even though it was not in the least surprising to Yuuri.

But then he suddenly remembered that just a few months ago, before he was permitted to push past the guarded mask, Victor had seemed so composed and collected that it would’ve been unimaginable for Yuuri to witness the amusing and somehow endearing sight of his shirt slightly crumpled and his hair unkempt, as he snored softly on the desk. Victor had carefully hidden this part of himself from the rest of the world, and must’ve been nearly out of his mind with exhaustion to reveal it so casually.

Yuuri shook his shoulder gently, eliciting a whine of protest as Victor was dragged into consciousness and opened his eyes reluctantly. He blinked a few times at Yuuri, and then croaked groggily, “Yuuri?”

Yuuri chuckled softly at Victor’s forlorn state, and wrapped his hand around Victor’s arm to coax him gently from the chair and guide him out of the office, amidst the sideward glances of the other staff, as Chris held the door open for them with a grateful smile.

When they returned to the apartment, Victor had collapsed on the couch and was immediately attacked by an excited Makkachin. Yuuri padded into the kitchen to heat up some leftover pasta for their dinner, as he laughed at the roughhousing that was going on in the living room.

They had a quick dinner in comfortable silence, with Victor looking too tired to speak. After they were finished, Victor wandered listlessly into the bedroom, while Yuuri quickly did the dishes, and followed him soon after. He gave a helpless laugh at the sight that greeted him in the bedroom, because it seemed as if Victor had unbuttoned his shirt and taken off one sock before he had dozed off again on the bed, with Makkachin slumped over his chest.

Yuuri tried to suppress his laughter as he struggled to get a moody Victor, who was being as uncooperative as a petulant child, undressed and into the shower. Yuuri had joined him just to make sure he didn’t fall asleep again. To Yuuri’s utter annoyance, when they were finally tucked comfortably in bed, Victor suddenly seemed alert and chatty, asking him cheerfully about his rehearsals and classes, forcing Yuuri to give an update on each of his classmates that Victor had met. But even as he described the continuing war that Phichit was waging against one of the choreographers, or Richardo’s dramatic argument with his latest flame, or how vocal and helpful Cecilia had been when she sat-in on one of the sessions for his Love piece, Yuuri began wondering whether he should ask Victor about what he had been doing these past two weeks. Or more precisely, whether he was, as Chris had said, working on a madcap idea that already seemed to be affecting his better judgement.

Yuuri eventually decided that it wasn’t worth bringing it up at this point. Not when the audition results weren’t even out yet. But what he had to do now was to persuade Victor not to keep going at this unsustainable pace. Whatever it was, and especially if it was some scheme to stay with Yuuri, it wasn’t worth risking his health, or his sanity, or his work.

When Victor began yawning again and had snuggled his head comfortably on Yuuri’s chest, Yuuri asked carefully, “You know the law of diminishing returns, Victor?”

“Mm-hmm,” replied Victor sleepily.

“So…” Yuuri continued hesitantly, “You know that it’s counterproductive to work this hard?”

At that, Victor stirred into wakefulness again and sighed as he looked up at Yuuri, “I know. I know it’s...irrational at this point. But there’s so much to do. I know I’ve found a way. I know I have. I just need to-” But he suddenly cut himself off and let out a shuddering breath, as his arms tightened around Yuuri, as though he was afraid Yuuri would disappear. “I know it will burn me out. But it’s important.”

This was the closest that Victor had come to admitting he _was_ up to something. But it probably wasn’t worth confronting him about it now, not when the problem may just solve itself if Yuuri failed his audition. So Yuuri returned his focus on the real issue at hand, which actually had a simple solution.

“I think we should make a pact,” he said in a calm voice.

“A pact?” replied Victor, surprise apparent in his voice.

“Yes, a pact,” Yuuri continued firmly, “I won’t go to bed until you get back from work.”

His resolve must have gotten through, because Victor immediately sat bolt upright, and exclaimed in distress, “But Yuuri, it’s your Repertory next week! You need to rest!”

Yuuri sat up as well and looked resolutely at Victor, before replying simply, “I know.”

Victor frowned at his words, obviously troubled and torn between whatever his hidden plan was and doing the sensible thing. Surely he could see that he couldn’t keep up this pace for a month, let alone a few years, not when working to death was a real danger.

After a while, his knitted brows relaxed and he said resignedly, “Alright. If that’s what you want.” Yuuri felt an inward sigh of relief, and he laid back onto the bed as Victor returned to his place on Yuuri’s chest.

They remained in silence as the tension slowly ebbed away, and Yuuri tried to find another funny story to lift the mood before they drifted to sleep.

But Victor beat him to it, as he piped up in excitement, “Do you want to go to a whisky tasting this Saturday? I arranged it today. It’s a private one, so it’s just us and a few people we know.”

A wide smile formed on Yuuri’s lips in the darkness. Japan had lulled them into forgetting how difficult it actually was not to be seen in public together. Especially when Victor’s life was a string of dinners, parties and events that Yuuri couldn’t be part of.

“That sounds great, Victor,” he replied happily. Even a small slice of it would be enough.

 

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Yuuri clutched the nondescript piece of paper in a shaking hand, his keys had clattered to the floor beside the mailboxes, but he made no move to pick them up. He couldn’t believe it was real. He couldn’t believe it had arrived so soon. They must have sent it as soon as the auditions were over.

He read the concise Japanese script a third time, his eyes returning again and again to the same word. Accepted. He had been accepted. One of the three who were chosen, out of thousands. He was given two weeks to accept the preliminary offer, and the official contract will be sent for his signature after that.

Al the doorman was looking at him with concern, perhaps because he’d been standing here staring this piece of paper for a good ten minutes. He had to tell someone. He didn’t know who, but he had to tell someone, just to feel like this was really happening. He gawped at Al, and blurted out, “I got into the Tokyo Ballet.”

Al’s face lit up with astonishment and he exclaimed, “Oh my god, that’s amazing, Yuuri. Congratulations! When do you start?”

He looked at the paper again, and replied numbly, “In October. I start in October.”

After parting from Al, his feet had brought him automatically to the apartment door, and as he walked slowly into the apartment, reality gradually began to sink in. But as the numbness of shock faded away, the feeling that replaced it hadn’t been joy or elation, or even excitement. Instead, it had morphed into dread, as though the barrier to his fears had suddenly been lifted, and he was forced to confront them in broad daylight.

The choice between Victor and his career hadn’t been real before. But now it was, and it was staring him straight in the face. To his utter surprise, it was turning out to be much tougher than he’d expected to make his decision. A few months ago, he would have chosen his career without hesitation, but it wasn’t so easy now. Not when Victor had given him so much, and had brought him to where he was right now. Not when the thought of being apart for months, if not years, tugged painfully at his heart. Not when he was almost certain that Victor was thinking of risking his career another time for them to be together.

Yuuri had thought that when the results finally came, he would be calling people left and right to share the good news. Instead, dropped the letter on his work desk and padded into the walk-in closet to get ready for the whisky tasting tonight. He needed time to think this through.

Victor greeted him with a bright smile at the gates of the Metropolitan Club. They walked side by side, with their hands nearly touching, through the tall wooden doors of the stately building, and up the grand marble staircase with its intricate black railings. As they climbed the stairs, Yuuri wondered silently whether he should let Victor know about the letter, but he was repeatedly held back by an odd reluctance. When they arrived all too quickly before the doors leading to the tasting, Yuuri knew that he had missed his chance, and would have to bring it up later that night.

The tasting was in a much smaller room this time, though it was no less elegant. The floor was covered in plush carpet of deep red, contrasting subtly with the white walls gilded in tasteful gold and hung with large oil paintings,  A round table was set up in the middle of the room underneath a crystal chandelier, where six bottles stood shrouded in black velvet, along with a number of whisky glasses, jugs of water, and assorted nibbles. The whisky expert was already in the room, fussing with the bottles, and around the table sat Jason, Chris, Fukuda Kenji, and to Yuuri’s amazement, Seung Gil.

As they settled into the remaining two chairs, Yuuri tried not to stare with his mouth open at Seung Gil’s presence across from him at such a private affair, didn’t it fly in the face of his no attachment policy? In response, Seung Gil had glared at him with a raised eyebrow, as if daring him to make a comment, as he rested a possessive grip over Kenji’s shoulder. Kenji glanced over to smile at Yuuri, and Yuuri could swear that whenever Kenji moved, he could see a thin strip of black leather around his neck that peeped through the top of his buttoned shirt.

“All right, gentlemen,” the whisky expert began, “Now that we’re all here. Firstly, I’d like to thank Mr. Nikiforov for organizing this small get-together.” He gestured to Victor, who nodded politely. “So, as requested, I’ve put together a few Japanese whiskies and a small surprise at the middle. Now, you’ll find that the first one is _quite_ special, even if it’s owned by the consumerist Suntory company.”

As he began pouring out the first whisky, Yuuri leaned over to Victor and whispered, “Japanese whiskies?”

Victor smiled and replied, “Minako had a few good ones at her bar, so I thought I’d learn more about them.” To Yuuri’s surprise, unlike the casual approach he’d taken at their last tasting, Victor had whipped out a pen and a small notebook, and began taking notes as he sniffed the first drachm.

The conversation flowed easily around the table, comments about the nose and palate interspersed with the usual chatter about their lives, or their work, or whatever breaking news that had taken their fancy. He was seated next to Chris, whose company was always entertaining. Even Seung Gil seemed to be a little less sullen than usual, responding in low tones to the animated Kenji with the occasional hint of a smile.

After the whisky expert had revealed that the third whisky was a rare Hibiki 21 owned by the Suntory company as well, and was pouring their fourth, Chris draped his chin lazily on his hand, and said in a sultry voice, “I’ve been meaning to ask. What’s with the rings?”

Yuuri stared wordlessly at him, not quite sure how to respond and he darted a quick glance at Victor. But Victor was unfazed, and was smiling brightly as he replied, “Yuuri got it in Japan for us. Do you like it?”

“Very pretty, Victor,” responded Chris sardonically, “Anything else?”

“Well,” said Victor with a bright smile, “Apparently, it also means I have to do whatever Yuuri says now.”

Chris let out a loud guffaw as he slapped the table, saying, “Imagine that, a hen-pecked Nikiforov,” while Yuuri blushed furiously and turned to glare at Victor. If he meant making him come home at a sane time, then he _knew_ it was for his own good, and it was working so far.

But instead of the playful grin Yuuri had expected to find, Victor had a strange look on his face, as he reached across the table and gently squeezed Yuuri's hand, saying in a soft voice so the others couldn't hear, “And you know that I would be glad to. That is, to go with you, if I can.”

At Victor’s words, he felt a chill running through his body as all his fears returned with a vengeance. There was no running away from it now. Victor did remember what had been said at the party, and he was thinking of risking his career again. Yuuri was suddenly relieved that he hadn’t mentioned the letter before this, because it would only push Victor further into whatever he was doing, and Yuuri couldn’t be the person responsible for destroying everything that Victor had built.

He looked away hastily, not sure what he should do. Should he ask Victor to stop what he was doing? No, it wouldn’t work. They were as stubborn as each other when it came to doing what they wanted. Or maybe he could let Chris or Mila know about it? Maybe they could do something? But Yuuri knew that it would be even less effective. They haven’t succeeded so far.

He took a long sip of the amber liquid that had been placed in front of him, trying to distract himself with the harsh burning on his tongue, as the words of the whisky expert continued in the background saying, “This one is not Japanese, but since Mr. Nikiforov, you mentioned that you wanted to try something that goes well with cigars, I’d say anything that’s similar to this would be fine…”

Yuuri took another long sip, as Victor released his hand to scribble in his notebook. He could feel the thudding of his heart in his chest, as he considered the one option that laid plainly before him. The only sure path that gave them both what they were so clearly craving, and Yuuri didn’t even have to lift a finger to achieve it.

Yuuri set down his glass on the table but his fingers were still clasped tightly around it. He could wait two weeks without replying, and all their problems would go away.

 

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It has been a week since Yuuri received his letter, and he still hadn’t told anyone about it, but he was no closer to making a final decision. The week had flown by with the frantic last minute preparations for the four-day long Repertory performances, and before he knew it the first three days had gone off without a hitch, as they ended each night with thundering applause and a rain of flowers, followed by a debrief and pep talk for the next performance.

It was the last day of the Repertory, and the dancers had been released from their final dress rehearsal. But Yuuri had dragged a protesting Richardo to one of the practice rooms, because he still wasn’t entirely happy with the last part of the Firebird duet. Their performance had been well-received, and they hadn’t yet been singled out for criticism, but Yuuri wanted the duet to be perfect tonight. More than perfect. Because Victor would be in the audience.

However, Yuuri still couldn’t get his emotions straight for the last part of the duet. Everytime he tried to focus on the indignity and the humiliation that the proud Firebird must be feeling when it was captured by Prince Ivan, it just didn’t feel right. He had talked it over with Richardo many times, and they were starting to run out of ideas. And it really didn’t help that for some inexplicable reason, whenever he thought about the Firebird, his mind kept wandering back to the letter on his desk, and to Victor’s strange expression, no matter how hard he tried to resist his thoughts.

As they ran through the first few sections of the duet, and Yuuri was lifted effortlessly into the air, he relented and allowed his mind to plunge freely into his current troubles, as he channeled the anguish of his dilemma into the fierce struggle of the Firebird with Prince Ivan.

But as they entered the part where Prince Ivan realises the Firebird meant him no harm, and they begin a gentle, almost playful, dance, Yuuri felt a new revelation dawning in his mind. To him, at least, the Firebird was not at all indignant in this part. To him, it felt like when he first started to let his guard down around Victor, and they gradually drew closer, both revealing more of their inner selves, as they became more comfortable around each other, and formed ties that bound their hearts more tightly together.

He stopped in the middle of a sequence, and stared intensely at Richardo as he said slowly, “I think I know what the Firebird is feeling in this part.”

“You do? At last! What is it?” exclaimed Richardo eagerly.

“I think the Firebird is falling in love with Prince Ivan,” said Yuuri, feeling the pounding of his heart grow louder.

Richardo raised his eyebrows, and asked with his arms folded, “Is this a confession, Yuuri?”

The reply had so completely derailed Yuuri’s thoughts, that he instantly forgot his problems, and gaped at Richardo with a stunned look, “What?”

“You’re in love with me, that’s what you’re saying right,” smirked Richardo, with a smug expression on his face.

“No!” Yuuri exclaimed, and laughed incredulously as Richardo pretended to be heartbroken and inconsolable. When he finished his dramatics, Yuuri continued, “What I meant was that if the Firebird, _not me_ , falls in love Prince Ivan, _not you_ , then the last part would make more sense to me. It falls in love, and then willingly gives Prince Ivan the feather so that he can summon it when he needs to. Like a...like a sign of its love.”

“True, true,” replied Richard thoughtfully, “Hey that’s actually quite good. I mean, why else would it throw itself into Prince Ivan’s dangerous nonsense? Or risk its own life to save the guy? I think we should go with that.”

But when Richardo made a move to resume their practice, Yuuri shook his head slightly and said evasively, “I think we should stop now. We should rest before the performance.”

He could feel Richardo’s confused gaze on him as he hurriedly packed up to leave. He couldn’t explain himself, not in a way that would sound rational or sane. How could he explain that he suddenly couldn’t bring himself to perform the last scene because he had finally admitted to himself what it meant. That it had become so completely and hopelessly entangled in his emotions about his future, and whether or not to give up the Tokyo Ballet for Victor. That he didn’t know whether he should give Victor the Firebird's feather, to put aside his dreams for their relationship.

Or perhaps, more precisely, that he already knew his answer but was afraid to take the last step, and acting it out now would push him over the precipice of the biggest decision in his life.

Yuuri hid from view as much as he could before the performance began. He knew that if Phichit or even Cecilia saw him, they would know something was up, and would drag everything out of him. His phone was clenched tightly in his hand as he waited backstage, his heart fluttering wildly when it went off and he saw a message from Victor.

 **I’m here! Just sat down. Good luck :*** 19:16

Yuuri peeped through the heavy curtains and caught a glimmer of silver in the audience. Victor was beaming proudly as his eyes darted excitedly around the theatre. He’d brought the entire gang, even Yurio and Yakov, and they had taken up all the best seats in the centre, chatting and laughing as they waited. Yuuri withdrew quickly back into the shadows, and joined the others in the dressing room before their first group performance.  

Soon they were rounded up and waiting in the wings, the booming voice of the host rang through the theatre as he introduced their first dance. Yuuri was swept away in the adrenaline rush of the moment, his memories blending into a blur of bright lights, swift movements, pouring sweat and deafening applause, as piece after piece was completed and he was rushed into wings once again to change into his last costume.

He stood in the wings, dressed in a tight-fitting, black one-piece garment that was covered in flaming-red fire motifs that flared outwards at the collar and his wrists, with a single long feather cunningly hidden amidst the tongues of flame on his arm. Richardo stood beside him and squeezed his shoulders encouragingly. Yuuri smiled at him and gave him a quick hug, before the lights were dimmed and he strode out onto the stage to take up his position.

The sprightly music of Stravinsky rang through the theatre and Yuuri felt himself becoming the Firebird. He felt its deepest pride at its magnificent powers, its simple joy in flitting around the low fruit trees of the garden, its surprise at being ambushed by an intruder, its intense fear as it struggled for its life, and its childlike wonder as it gradually gave its heart away.

And at the end, when he removed the feather from his arm, he turned away from Richardo who was poised to receive it, and turned towards the audience, facing the exact spot where he knew Victor was looking up at him. He felt the inner conflicts of his mind gradually being silenced by a calm certainty, as his heart and his actions merged to accept the decision he had made long before he came to realize it, and he extended his arm to offer the feather to Victor, giving away everything that was his.

The lights dimmed once again, and the cheers of the audience erupted around him. He hurried off stage with Richardo, who was still confused by the sudden change in their routine. He later apologised for his impulsive actions, but Richardo had waved it off, saying the audience loved it. Though he seemed to have sensed that the action had meant a lot more than Yuuri had revealed.

Yuuri waited in the wings after all the dancers had taken several curtain calls and the audience were finally starting the disperse. Victor had left everyone behind and rushed backstage as soon as he could with a large bouquet of flowers, gushing with praises about all of Yuuri’s performances. But Yuuri pulled him into a crushing kiss that drowned out his words, wanting desperately to let Victor know about the decision he had made, to tell him that Yuuri had decided to give everything to him, but knowing that he couldn’t, not for another week, and he could only pour his emotions into their fervent kiss.

His hands tightened around Victor as he pulled them closer together, and broke off their kiss to whisper in Victor’s ear, “I want you to take me.”  He led a speechless Victor to the dressing room that he shared with Richardo and a few others, and locked the door, before leaning against the wall and dragging Victor by his collar into another fiery kiss, eliciting a lusty moan from Victor.

When Yuuri began unbuckling Victor’s belt, Victor stopped his hands, and gasped, “Wait, Yuuri. We can’t. Not here. I might hurt you.” Yuuri stared with glassy eyes at Victor’s words, and then suddenly realized what he meant, as he began looking around the dressing room as though it might offer a solution. He didn’t want to stop, he needed Victor to know, on some level, that Yuuri was completely and truly his.

His eyes fell on Richardo’s bag and he hurried over to rummage through it, apologising silently in his mind. It was a sure bet because Richardo was always prepared. He found the condoms and lube in the front pocket and returned to Victor, who quickly reached behind Yuuri’s back to unzip his costume. Yuuri went back to unbuckling Victor’s belt and unzipping his trousers, reaching impatiently through the fabric to grasp Victor’s waiting erection, as Victor coated his fingers with the lube. Yuuri soon felt Victor’s fingers prodding at his entrance, slowly opening him up, and he pushed back into the fingers, feeling the clenching of his muscles around them.

When he felt he was ready, he hurriedly tore open the condom and rolled it onto Victor’s hard length, covering it generously with lube. Victor lifted him easily from the floor, as he wrapped his legs around Victor’s waist, his back pressed against the wall, and felt the head of Victor’s cock nudging at his entrance.

Their gaze were locked in fierce intensity as Victor began pushing past the tight ring of muscles, and Yuuri's grip tightened on Victor’s shoulders as he felt the burning stretch that sent shots of electrifying pleasure through his body. He captured Victor's lips in a heated kiss, holding him close as Victor was fully encased, and Yuuri could feel his muscles rippling around the hard length deep within him.

Yuuri could feel Victor’s fingers digging into his thighs, as he tightened his hold on Yuuri and began moving in earnest. Yuuri closed his eyes and threw his head against the wall, moaning loudly as Victor increased his pace, feeling the pleasure building as he hung on desperately to Victor and was pounded relentlessly into wall. His leaking cock was trapped between their bodies, rubbing roughly against Victor’s shirt, and he cried out in pleasure each time Victor brushed against the bundle of nerves in his prostate. His mind went blank with the all-consuming pleasure, feeling only his intense connection with Victor as he was filled again and again, until he gasped out, “Vicchan, I’m close.” His words brought out a loud groan from Victor, who drove mercilessly into him a few more times, pushing Yuuri over the edge as he shuddered and came between their bodies, with uncontrolled sobs, his pleasure drawn out by Victor’s continued pounding, as his muscles clamped down firmly on Victor’s cock. It wasn’t long before Victor soon came with a shout, pushing himself deep into Yuuri as his body trembled with the release.

They leaned panting against the wall, as Yuuri slowly unravelled his legs from Victor’s waist and felt Victor slipping out of him as his feet met the ground. Victor pressed his forehead against Yuuri’s and asked with a breathless smile, “What was that about?”

Yuuri looked up at him with a sated and glassy expression, as he replied simply, “I am yours.”

 

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That night, when Victor was sound asleep, Yuuri lifted the covers and slipped slowly out of bed, trying not to wake Makkachin. He couldn’t sleep. His mind was racing, but no longer about his decision. He still needed a plan if he were to stay in New York, and it wasn’t long before his time in Juilliard would come to an end.

He padded silently into the living room and turned on his laptop. As he waited for it to start up, his eyes fell on the letter that he had left on the work desk. He wanted to crumple it and throw it away, so that he wouldn’t be tempted to change his mind again. But found that he couldn’t. Instead, he tucked it away in the desk drawer, out of sight.

When his laptop finally came to life, his fingers hovered hesitantly over the keys. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. When he re-opened them again, he quickly typed out the words “dance companies in new york”.

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear, the Love piece is the Yuri on Ice Free Skate song.  
> Hope you liked the references to Yuri on Festival!! That was one crazy event.....  
> All comments welcomed!  
> And I'm on [tumblr](https://weberina.tumblr.com)


	11. Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The penultimate chapter!!!!! Thank you for staying with the story for this long <3<3<3 And for the comments and kudos!  
> I'm not sure I'm ready to leave this au just yet, so there may be a short story after this, involving another sugar baby ;)  
> As usual, beta'd by my wonderful sister!  
> Hope you enjoy this chapter :D

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Yuuri rested his hand lightly on the black railings that surrounded the first-floor garden terrace, which overlooked the steady flow of the East River. The imposing Queensboro Bridge was within clear view on his left, carrying its constant load of traffic over the thin strip of Roosevelt Island on the opposite bank. Phichit was standing beside him, awestruck by the breathtaking scene before them.

It was the day after the Repertory performances, and Yuuri had dragged Phichit along to view the four houses that Victor and Mila had shortlisted as their blissful marital home. Yuuri had been surprised that he had a say in choosing the house, but Victor had insisted, even delaying their final decision so that Yuuri had the chance to view the houses in person after his performance.

However, they were cutting it very close now, and they had to settle on one by today at the very latest, because Victor and Mila would be announcing their engagement at the dinner party next Saturday, and questions of where they would live after they got married would inevitably arise.

Yuuri felt a familiar twinge of guilt at this thought. Their initial plan had been to move into the Nikiforov mansion after the wedding and ‘honeymoon’, but now that Victor had Yuuri to consider, and Mila was in a serious relationship, they’d had to make some drastic last minute changes.

In the end, their solution was to find a house in the city center that was large enough to accommodate all four of them, and can be divided such that each couple would have their own space on the upper floors, but share the lower floors. That way, Victor and Mila could entertain their guests together in the same house, but still lead their separate private lives. Most of the warhorses had reluctantly agreed to the scheme eventually, due in no small part to the surprisingly staunch support shown by Yakov. So, as long as they kept any nosy guests away from the upper floors, they should be able to maintain the illusion of a happy couple. It was a better idea than having Victor sneaking back to his old apartment everyday when he was supposed to be living happily ever after with Mila.

The search for their dream house had been slightly nightmarish, especially at such short notice. But by some miracle, the estate agent had managed to find them several suitable candidates. Yuuri suspected there wasn’t much the estate agent wouldn’t do to close this lucrative deal, since all four houses that they had seen today were massive townhouses in the middle of New York. She seemed more than happy to give Yuuri the additional viewing, even though it was a Sunday. She also seemed to be fully aware of their unique situation, and had been completely unfazed as she gave them a brief tour of each property, explaining how the houses could be divided between the two couples.

For some reason, as Yuuri followed her around the houses, with Phichit asking most of the questions, the decision he made last night to turn down the Tokyo Ballet seemed to be becoming more real. Even more real than when he’d sent off a number of applications to several dance companies based in New York. To his disappointment, none of them were related to ballet and were all different forms of modern dance. He’d carried on applying nonetheless, holding on to the hope that there might be an opening for a ballet company in the distant future. 

But standing here, in the fourth and final property, hearing the sloshing of waves as a ferry chugged slowly past on the river, and glancing up at the beautiful house that he may be living in, was forcing him to envision his life over the next few years, and he couldn't help comparing it to the life that he would be giving up. He asked himself again whether he was willing to pay the price of giving up his dreams so that Victor wouldn’t have to, and found that his answer was still a resounding yes.

If it wasn’t for Victor, he wouldn’t have gotten the position in the Tokyo Ballet, or had the opportunity to audition in the first place, or even have met Lilia, along with the insights and training she’d given him. If it wasn’t for Victor, he would still be burdened by the worries of living from day to day, and his dance would have continued to suffer under the constant shadow of not having enough. Victor had given him so much, and he needed to give something back. He wouldn’t hide from the fact that it was a painful sacrifice, but wasn’t that part of love?

He turned to Phichit with a small smile and asked, “So...what do you think of this one?”

Phichit laughed in disbelief as he surveyed the long line of buildings on the opposite bank that stretched all the way to the Brooklyn Bridge to their right. “Wow,” he eventually said in amazement, “Just wow. I didn't think she could top the last one, but this... Wow.”

Yuuri beamed at him and nodded his agreement. The estate agent had saved the best for last. Yuuri would pick this house for the views over the river alone. But it wasn't only that. This house could offer them a measure of privacy that the others could not.

They would still share the lower floors of the house, which included the large reception area on the first floor that opened up into the beautiful terrace they were standing in, as well as the open-planned kitchen and dining room in the airy basement that opened into a private garden. They would also claim one of the upper floors each for their private space.

But unlike the others, which only had one main entrance that led directly to the reception area, this townhouse was slightly wider, and so could have two side-doors on either side of the main entrance that both led to more secluded entranceways next to the main reception area.

Also, unlike the others, which all had one central decorative staircase right in the middle, the decorative spiral staircase in this one was actually set in an enclave on the righthand edge of the house, encased in glass windows from top to bottom, intended to offer stunning views over the river. There was also another more functional set of stairs tucked behind the cloakroom on the lefthand edge of the house. This odd design meant that one couple could claim exclusive use of the right side-door leading to the spiral staircase, while the other could use the left side-door that led to the hidden staircase.

It seemed like a such a small detail, not having to share the same entrance and set of stairs leading to their respective floors, but it meant they wouldn’t have to encroach on each others’ spaces when they came and went. Plus, there was already a kitchenette on the second floor, and it wouldn't take too much effort to add another on the third, so they could also have breakfasts and light dinners without needing to use the shared kitchen. It was a measure of privacy that Yuuri would greatly appreciate.

In fact, just based on this consideration alone, he felt that there was already a clear winner among the four, and Phichit seemed to be thinking the same thing because he grinned widely at Yuuri and asked, “So, when will you be moving in?”

Yuuri chuckled at his question, and replied, “Probably at the end of the semester, maybe after the graduation. Victor’s thinking of renting out his old apartment after that.”

Phichit’s grin widened as he said, “This means I’ll still be around for the housewarming party then?”

Yuuri groaned in dismay, knowing full well that Phichit wanted to throw said party, and quickly countered, “Phichit, I won’t even be at the housewarming. They will have to invite people from the company and some of their clients. So, if anything, I might have to hide out at your place for a few hours.”

“You can always have a second housewarming!” Phichit retorted eagerly, “I’ll organize everything. It’ll just be the dancers, and Cecilia, she’s an honorary dancer. Victor knows everyone anyway. It’ll be fun!”

Yuuri could only shake his head and laugh helplessly at Phichit’s obvious enthusiasm. He would most probably relent in the end, especially since Victor would be equally keen on the idea.

“That’s settled then,” said Phichit proudly, grinning at Yuuri’s defeat, “We will have the party the day after you move out of the apartment. Actually,” Phichit’s voice suddenly became thoughtful, which made Yuuri cast him a glance of worry, as he said, “Are you sure you’ll need to move out of the apartment at all? Shouldn’t you wait for your audition results? I mean, it would be a waste if you had to move again in about five or six months’ time.”

Yuuri stood frozen in place, not knowing how he should respond, and feeling awful that he was keeping the results and his decision secret from Phichit. Phichit was the one of the few who could easily persuade Yuuri to change his mind, and he didn’t know how Phichit would react. But Phichit was also the most accepting and understanding person he knew, and would calmly listen to his reasons without judgement. Yuuri could feel his resolve wavering, and he wondered whether he should tell Phichit everything, just to have someone review his decision.

A look of worry clouded his face as he struggled for the right words to say, and Phichit immediately laid a hand on his shoulder, asking in a voice full of concern, “Yuuri, what is it?” But after a brief silence, Yuuri only shook his head slightly, and forced a small smile. He couldn’t bring himself to go through the struggle again, and relive the pain of giving up something close to his heart.

Phichit seemed torn between respecting Yuuri's need for space, and knowing that something was wrong and wanting to push for more details. But after a slight hesitation, he seemed to have decided that the issue could wait until Yuuri was ready, because he said cheerfully instead, “Let’s find the estate agent, and tell her we’ve made a choice.”

Yuuri smiled gratefully at him and nodded, glancing up at the elegant brickwork of the house. He could imagine living here for the next few years, and more importantly, he could imagine having a life with Victor in this house.

 

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Yuuri hadn't expected to hear back so soon from any of the dance companies he had applied to. But since Monday morning, the replies had begun filling his inbox, some asking for more details, others to arrange a suitable time for interviews or auditions.

By the time Wednesday rolled around, he had his first his audition lined up for a small dance troupe. Technically, the dance leader had called it an ‘informal get together’ to see if Yuuri ‘meshed with the chemistry’ of the group, which sounded a bit ominous to Yuuri. But he’d gone anyway since they had been kind enough to schedule an evening time slot to accommodate his schedule, and he suspected that a few other auditions would involve something similar.

It turned out to be one of the most harrowing experiences of his life. He knew that the troupe was on the more liberal end of modern dance, but he hadn’t been prepared for the discordant mess of improvisation and experimental dance, with someone shouting from the sidelines for him to throw his body into the music, and to writhe with the flow of despair, while the rest of the troupe tumbled and squirmed beside him. He left the studio feeling absolutely exhausted and somewhat tainted, like he’d either taken part in an orgy or a cult ritual, and if this had been his only audition offer, it would’ve sent him straight back to the apartment to accept the offer from Japan. Thankfully, he had several others that were on the saner side of reality.

It was later than he’d thought when he wearily pushed open the heavy metal doors of the apartment building, because he caught a glimmer of silver in the lobby and spotted the familiar frame of Victor’s back, as he chatted to Al the doorman.

Yuuri could hear the hum of their voices, talking about Al’s upcoming midterms in computational chemistry and how he’d been told off by the building superintendent for revising on the job. He tried to sneak surreptitiously past them, because Al was the only person who knew about Yuuri’s audition results and would most certainly bring it up again if he saw Yuuri.

But they seemed to be too deep into the conversation, allowing Yuuri to reach the elevators unnoticed, where he stood patiently waiting and pressed the up button when Victor turned to leave, calling out, “Good luck with your midterms. And don’t let the super catch you again.”

As Al nodded grimly and slouched back to his corner, pulling out a daunting stack of notes hidden behind the doorman’s podium, Victor strode towards the elevators, and jumped slightly when he saw Yuuri waiting there.

His face instantly broke into a dazzling smile, and he remarked brightly, “This is a rare treat, catching you coming home later than me.”

Yuuri smiled tiredly, and replied, “It’s not all that late. You’re early today.”

Victor took a quick peek at his watch, and gave a small laugh as he said, “So I am, it’s only nine,” he looked up at Yuuri with dancing eyes, and added, “I had a _very_ productive day today.”

They stepped into the elevator when it arrived, and Yuuri waited for Victor to elaborate as they ascended to their floor. But instead, Victor gently cupped the side of his face and said softly, “You look tired, Yuuri. Have you had something to eat?”

Yuuri nodded, leaning gratefully into Victor’s warm touch, “I had an early dinner at the cafeteria in school be-” Yuuri felt his heart freeze, catching himself before he blurted out ‘before the audition’, and finished lamely, “Be-because I knew I’d be late.” He cast a worried glance at Victor, who seemed to have caught his odd stutter, but after a brief moment of hesitation, decided to let it go, perhaps attributing it to his exhaustion.

Yuuri felt a painful clenching in his chest. He wanted so desperately to tell Victor about his decision, but he couldn’t waver at this point. Only two more days to go, and the uneasy secret would be over. Well, technically, a day and a half, because of the time difference with Tokyo. He only had to survive the dinner that Victor had arranged for tomorrow evening at a nearby restaurant, where someone might mention the audition again, but after that...

Victor leaned in for a tender kiss before the elevator doors opened again, and said with a reassuring smile, “I know exactly what you need. You need a bath.”

Yuuri followed willingly, as he was led back to the apartment and was greeted by the Makkachin's happy barking. He spent a few minutes lavishing his attention on Makkachin, while Victor headed to the bedroom. He soon heard water running into the bath, and the sound of Victor stepping into the shower. Yuuri smiled to himself, he was brought up to have a thorough shower before going anywhere near a bath and it seemed that Victor had picked up this habit as well. He cuddled with Makkachin for a while longer and hurried to the bathroom, only to find that Victor was already sitting beside the bath and testing the temperature of the water. Yuuri quickly washed himself, and came out in time to hear the sigh of satisfaction as Victor lowered himself into the water, and he reached out his arm invitingly towards Yuuri.

Yuuri interlaced his fingers with Victor’s, and stepped carefully into the bath, feeling the warmth of the water washing away the tensions of this long and wearisome day. He settled himself between Victor’s long legs, and laid his head against Victor’s shoulder, as he closed his eyes and melted into the comfort of the moment. Victor's arms were encircled protectively around him, and their intertwined fingers rested against Yuuri’s chest.

“Oh yes, Yuuri,” said Victor after a sleepy silence, “The number of people for tomorrow has gone up again. I called Nobu’s today to check that the private room could fit us all.”

Yuuri chuckled sleepily. The dinner started out with only the two of them, because Victor had felt unnecessarily bad about leaving out Yuuri from the engagement party on Saturday, and wanted to make it up by having a romantic evening. But then Mila mentioned a double date, and Georgi said he wanted to introduce his new girlfriend...Yuuri had eventually lost count.

“How many are we up to now?” he asked in amusement.

“Ten,” Victor replied guiltily, “Chris finally agreed to bring his mystery man. And Yakov heard us talking about it... You don't mind, do you?”

Yuuri chuckled again and shook his head, “No, not at all.”

“It's odd…” said Victor, his voice suddenly thoughtful, as he toyed idly with the ring on Yuuri’s finger, “The dinner tomorrow feels more like an engagement party than the one on Saturday.” He paused briefly, his arms drawing Yuuri closer to him, as he leaned his cheek lightly against Yuuri’s head, “Maybe because you’ll be there.”

Yuuri couldn’t suppress the shudder of warm joy that ran through him, the words reaffirming his resolution, and he nestled deeper into Victor’s embrace. He felt content in this moment, within the stillness of the apartment, broken only by the steady drops of water falling from the tap into the bath. Each drop reminding him of the seconds that were passing by as his dreams slipped slowly from his fingers. But he was content.

 

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Yuuri was late, and he was sprinting as fast as his legs could carry him through the crowded streets of New York. It was a terrible personal habit that he needed to work on, but this time he fully intended to blame Cecilia. He had been perfectly content with the Love choreography, until she said the ending didn’t feel right, which inevitably led to an hour-long discussion after school that eventually led to him running like a madman back to the apartment, where Victor was already waiting.

He burst through doors with a quick, “Sorry I’m late!” and headed straight to the bathroom, haphazardly discarding his practice bag, shoes and clothes on the way. When he stepped out of the shower, he heard Victor calling out from the living room, “Yuuri, do you know where the pictures of that house we chose are? Yakov just said he wants to see them, but I can’t find them.”

“They should be on the breakfast table. I left them there after the viewing,” Yuuri replied through the walls, as he quickly dried himself off and hurried to the walk-in closet. “Or maybe on the table by the door. They’re in a green folder, I think.”

Just when he was pulling out a navy blue suit and his favorite light-blue tie, he heard Victor calling out again in exasperation, “I _still_ can’t find them anywhere. I think the cleaning services sent Reinhardt again. He _always_ moves things around. He can’t stand leaving stuff out.”

Yuuri laughed, as he deftly knotted the tie around his neck, and replied, “It was him. I saw him on Tuesday. You’ll need to expand your search.”

He adjusted the tie in the mirror, threw on the suit jacket, and ran his fingers quickly through his hair to tame it slightly, before slipping into a pair of plain black dress shoes and stumbling out of the closet. There was silence in the living room, which meant Victor had probably found the pictures and was waiting impatiently by the door. Yuuri called out, “I’m done. We can go now,” as he hurried out of the bedroom towards the front door, but was stopped in his tracks when he strode past Victor’s hunched figure over the work desk.

Victor straightened up abruptly, one hand still hovering over Google Translate on his phone, the other clutching the letter from the Tokyo Ballet, his face ashen as he gazed at Yuuri with growing realization. In a quivering voice, he asked slowly, “What is this, Yuuri?”

There was a dreadful sinking in Yuuri’s heart, and he stared silently at Victor. This was not how he intended Victor to find out.

When he didn’t reply, Victor continued urgently, his shaking voice on the verge of panic, “It says you’ve been accepted, doesn’t it? And it says to reply by the 31st of March, by _tomorrow._ Is that right?”

Yuuri nodded mutely, and he heard the desperate hope that Victor was clinging on to in his voice as he asked fearfully, “Have you replied?”

Yuuri tore his gaze away from the pain that was seeping into Victor’s eyes, and answered in a low tone, “I have decided to give it up. I will stay in New York.” He braced himself for the onslaught against his decision, and lifted his gaze again to meet Victor’s, expecting to find anger, indignation or even resentment for his deceit.

He hadn’t been prepared to find the steady stream of tears that were flowing freely from the startling blue-green eyes.

“Victor?” he breathed in disbelief, his hand instinctively reaching out to brush away the silver strands from Victor’s face, but it was caught in Victor’s tight grasp.

“Why did you make this decision alone?” Victor asked in a trembling voice, “Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“I had to. Because you wouldn’t have let me,” Yuuri replied calmly. The slight lowering of Victor’s eyes betrayed his agreement, and Yuuri pressed on, “You have given me so much, Victor. Let me do this for you. I want to.”

“But if you do, everything I have given you would be a waste. All of it. Everything we have been through would mean nothing,” replied Victor urgently, his voice turning angry even as his tears continued to flow, his grip crushing Yuuri’s hand, “And for what Yuuri? For _this_ ? For this _th-thing_ that doesn’t even have a name? That we can’t even acknowledge in public. It’s not worth it, Yuuri! I _cannot_ let you throw away your dreams just for this.”

“But you are doing the same thing!” retorted Yuuri sharply, “Can you honestly tell me that you are not risking your career _right now_ for this relationship?”

Victor stared at him helplessly, his lips slightly parted but the words were caught in his throat, his muteness gave Yuuri the confirmation he needed, and he pressed on, “Will your plan even succeed in the end?”

Victor pressed his trembling lips together, as a renewed flood of tears poured down his face, and he uttered in a pained voice, “I don’t know. Maybe.”

They stood looking at each other in the gloomy silence, as the sun began setting around them, drenching the apartment in a deep crimson light. Everything was out in the open.

Eventually, Victor whispered in a small, desperate voice, “Please, Yuuri.”

The sadness in his words tore Yuuri’s heart apart, but he couldn’t change his mind. All he had to do was just let go of this dream, and they could both remain in New York. The alternative was to allow Victor to risk his work, which could ruin his life and still offer no certainty of a future together. His choice was clear, and he replied softly, “I can’t.”

Victor released his tight grip on Yuuri’s hand and dropped his arm uselessly to his side, his eyes downcast and hidden in the shadows. He reached over to the crinkled letter on the work desk, and held it weakly, seeming to mull pensively over something. After a drawn-out silence, he took a deep breath and said in a voice full of hurt, “What if I give you my word that I will not risk my career, would you accept this preliminary offer? And I will not force you to sign the formal contract when it comes.”

“What difference would it make, Victor?” asked Yuuri quietly.

“I just-” Victor bit his lip as he tried to stem the flow of tears, before continuing in a desperate voice, “I just want you to have more time to think about this.”

It wasn’t an unreasonable request, and it meant that Victor would be more careful with his work. Yuuri relented, and nodded wordlessly.

He sent off the confirmation email under Victor’s watchful eyes, and when he was done, he stared at the blank screen before him, as he heard Victor’s voice on the phone saying, “Darlene, sorry for disturbing you. I'm fine. Really, I'm fine.  Could you ring the Tokyo Ballet in an hour? I’ll send you the number. Yes, sorry. I’ll be at the dinner so I can’t- Yes, and just confirm that they’ve received the acceptance from Yuuri...Yes, that’s it. That’s all. Thank you, Darlene.”

 

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Yuuri could barely register the clatter and commotion of the dinner going on around him. His entire awareness was consumed by the sight of Victor’s slumped shoulders and dejected face from across the table. Victor had kept his distance, and he hadn't said more than three words since they arrived at the restaurant. The absence of his lustrous voice and carefree laughter was drawing looks of concern from all around the table.

The palpable silence that hung in the air between them seemed to be infecting the others. The animated conversations gradually faded to worried muttering, and soon only the loud sizzling of meat on hot-plates could be heard. In the end, Mila looked pointedly at the both of them and asked, “Are you two alright?”

Victor snapped out of his trance, and forced a small smile, trying to keep his voice steady as he said, “Yuuri has been accepted into the Tokyo Ballet,” a murmur of excitement began spreading around the table, but Victor cast an anguished glance at Yuuri and added, “But he's thinking of turning it down.” He quickly looked away, his voice cracking as he mumbled, “Excuse me,” and stumbled out of the private room.

Yuuri kept his gaze on the table, and he heard the scraping of a chair, as Chris left the table to follow Victor. He felt the looks of astonishment fixed on him, and only ventured to lift his eyes when they had looked away. But he caught Mila’s intense glare, as she leaned forward and asked sternly, “Yuuri, are you _sure_ you-”

“Leave the boy alone, Mila” Yakov’s gruff voice cut in, his expression not unkind, “He has a hard decision ahead.” Mila glanced hesitantly between him and Yakov, then settled back into her chair when Sara tugged at her arm. Yuuri gave Yakov a grateful look, and received an imperceptible nod. Chris returned after a while, but without Victor, and at Yuuri’s worried expression, he said reassuringly, “He just needs some time alone.”

No one else bothered him during the dinner, and he left the restaurant as soon as he could, walking briskly back to the apartment, and trying to suppress the rising fear that Victor might not be there when he returned, or that his actions had driven a permanent wedge between them. He hadn’t meant to hurt Victor, and he still didn’t understand how he had caused this much pain. But Victor’s tears had broken his heart, and he didn’t know what he could do to mend the hurt without giving Victor the one thing that he couldn’t. He couldn’t let Victor take any more risks for him, and he couldn’t bear to see the end of the deep connection they shared. He had willingly decided to give up everything if it meant that they could stay together, and he would be content with whatever role he had to play and whatever job he could find in New York. But he hadn’t expected Victor to shrink away in such anguish at his decision, and his heart was clenched in fear at a possibility that hadn’t even crossed his mind. That his decision to bring them closer would actually tear them further apart.

The apartment was shrouded in darkness when he opened the door, his eyes searching blindly for any sign of Victor’s presence. He almost sobbed in relief at the sight of Victor’s coat hanging on the peg, and he hurried to the bedroom. Victor’s sleeping form was outlined in the soft glow of moonlight, his back turned towards Yuuri, his body teetering on the edge of the bed. Yuuri undressed silently and slipped slowly under the covers, not wanting to wake Victor.

But Victor hadn’t been asleep, and Yuuri heard him say in a low voice, “I’m sorry I left you at the restaurant.”

Yuuri reached his hand towards Victor’s back, but stopped himself, and dropped it in the space between them, as he whispered softly, “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

At that, Victor turned slowly to face Yuuri, his expression unreadable. When he saw Yuuri’s outstretched arm between them, he gently laced their fingers together, and gazed sadly at Yuuri. A heavy silence passed between them, before Victor closed his eyes and said in a lifeless tone, “I wish everything could be different. You deserve so much more.”

Yuuri wanted to reply that he didn’t. That he was content. That he had received far more than he had any right to. But Victor had seemed too drained to listen to anymore, and Yuuri eventually drifted off to sleep as well, feeling the keen presence of the distance that had opened up between them.

 

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Yuuri sank his overheated body onto the reassuring coolness of the wooden floor in the practice room. He wanted to shut out the world, and hide within the sanctuary of these four walls. But even his dance was no longer an escape. It was stupid of him to be practicing so hard only a few hours before his lesson with Lilia, but he had been desperate.

With little more than five days until the Senior Dance Production, he had spent the entire morning trying to regain his emotional connections to his Love choreography, but now he finally had to admit to himself that the connections were lost. He no longer felt the richness and joy that once ran through this piece, because his entire mind was consumed by the heavy sadness that shadowed Victor’s face.

In the two weeks since Victor discovered the letter, Yuuri saw his constant struggle to accept their new reality. There seemed to be a permanent cloud hanging over his head, and the usual glimmer in his blue-green eyes had been dulled to a lifeless teal.

Yuuri had taken great care to give Victor the space to heal, but he sorely missed the tender smiles, the carefree laughter, and the light touches they shared. These seemed to be returning after a while, when Victor slowly began to reach for Yuuri’s hand again as they walked, or joke lightly about his day at the office, or lean his shoulder against Yuuri’s when they sat on the couch. And Yuuri could hint at their future together in New York without risking his sudden retreat into pensive silence.

But all of it vanished the day Yuuri returned late from another audition, and found Victor sitting on the couch with a thick brown envelope in his hand.

He remembered Victor’s strained voice as he asked, “Were you at an audition?” Yuuri had nodded wordlessly. There had been no point in hiding.

Victor had handed him the envelope, saying flatly, “I’m sorry, but Darlene changed the mailing address to my office when she called the Tokyo Ballet. I think it’s the contract.” As Yuuri closed his fingers around the rough texture of the envelop, Victor had added with a bitter laugh, “I almost wish she hadn’t, and I can pretend that this isn’t happening for a little while longer… But at least now I know it’s arrived.”

Victor had pulled away completely after that, and hadn’t looked at Yuuri in the eye since.

The Love piece had previously been infused by the unbearable joy he had felt around Victor, but now the look of utter dejection on Victor’s face was seared into his mind. How could his decision, the one act that had been done out love, bring so much sadness. He couldn’t bear to think that he was the source of it, and his heart ached painfully at the absence of the close intimacy they had.

But the preparations for the Senior Dance Production couldn’t stop, it was the last major performance of his time in Juilliard, and he had to keep going. So he had tried his best to block out the painful images of Victor, focusing instead on the steady and constant support from his family and friends, who were still oblivious to his decision. The emotions hadn’t been as intense, but it had kept him going.

That is, until yesterday. Specifically, yesterday lunch, at the cafeteria.

He had been with a few dancers, picking away at a quinoa salad thing, when someone had slammed their fist onto the table, making the cutlery clatter noisily, before shouting, “Oi katsudon! Are you fucking crazy?”

Everyone had sat up, startled, and Yuuri found himself staring at a fuming Yurio, his hoodie drawn over his head, his face as furious as the fearsome tiger on his T-shirt. Yuuri had been so surprised that he could only let out a stunned, “Yurio? Wha-”

But Yurio had cut him short, and hissed, “I heard that you’re giving up the Tokyo Ballet! Are you _serious_?”

“How did you know?” Yuuri had replied in panic, and looked quickly at his friends, who were all listening intently.

“I heard Yakov talking to Lilia after class. How does that even _matter_ ? The point is, _why_?”, demanded Yurio, “And don’t you dare tell me it’s for Victor, because he’s been walking around like a zombie for weeks.”

Yuuri had stood up abruptly, as he said quietly, “It’s none of your business, Yurio,” and walked away, ignoring the hurt glare on Yurio’s face and the worried looks of his friends.

He hid in the locker rooms until it was nearly time for classes again, not wanting to face the ensuing interrogation. Phichit had found him eventually, and had sat calmly next to him, until he recounted everything that had passed and apologised for keeping it a secret.

But Phichit had batted away his apology and said, “It’s not necessary. I knew something was up. And I recently started to suspect what you’d decided.”

“Do you think I’m doing the right thing, Phichit?” he had asked fearfully.

There had been signs of misgiving in Phichit’s eyes before he replied carefully, “I think...I side with Victor on this. But I will support your decision either way. Just make sure you think carefully about it.”

Rumors of his giving up the Tokyo Ballet had spread quickly among his classmates, and nearly all of them had confronted him about it by the end of day. If they had been dismissive or antagonistic, Yuuri could’ve used anger to drown out the feelings they stirred up. But they had reacted almost the same way as Phichit had, some a little more vocal than others, but all voicing their support that was also laden with doubts and apprehension. Yuuri didn’t doubt that his family would react the same way as well, even if Minako-sensei would have to yell herself hoarse before she calmed down.

And that had completely cut off his emotional ties to his choreography, because every time he heard the lilting notes of Cecilia’s composition, he saw the fierce disbelief on Yurio’s face, as though his decision had been a personal insult, or the worried looks of everyone who loved him, which had overshadowed their immovable support. He couldn’t tap into the familiar feeling of warmth and deep contentment, only the growing realization that his actions no longer reflected the self-sacrificing love he thought they represented.

It wasn’t until this morning that he remembered what Yurio had said, and realized what it implied. That Lilia knew about his decision as well. And he had to face her today. Lilia had personally vouched for him to the artistic director of the Tokyo Ballet, putting her reputation on the line. He hadn’t considered the repercussions it would have on her, and he didn’t know what he could say to her today.

The thought had sent him fleeing to the practice rooms as soon as he rolled out of bed. But it hadn’t been enough to silence his growing dread of facing Lilia. If anything, it made him even more tense, because it made him realize how empty he felt when he danced his choreography. And there may not be anything he could do about it.

Yuuri picked himself up reluctantly from the cold floor, and began packing his bag. There would be no point in going back to the apartment before his lesson with Lilia, so he hung around the school and had a quick bite to eat until it was time.

When he arrived at the main studio, he hesitated at the door, wondering what he should say or if she was even going to let him in. But she must have seen him hovering outside, because the door opened suddenly and he heard her clipped voice saying, “Come in, Yuuri.”

Yuuri glanced nervously at her, and saw only her usual calm, inscrutable expression. When he had closed the door softly behind him, she peered at him pointedly for a few seconds before saying, “I heard about your decision.”

Yuuri looked away hastily, and replied, “I’m sorry. I…” but his voice trailed off, and he couldn’t think how to justify his decision.

To his surprise, Lilia replied with a small laugh, “Sorry? Oh don’t be.” Yuuri met her eyes again and found an amused smirk on her lips, “You were accepted, which is enough to reassure Yukari that the calibre of my recommendations is still trustworthy. Whether you turn it down or not will not affect me.”

Yuuri breathed a sigh of relief at her words, thankful that she wouldn’t be roasting him alive.

“Of course, I predicted that you would turn it down,” Lilia continued, with a knowing glint in her eye, “I could see it in your Firebird performance, even if no one else did. You danced as though the Firebird was in love, a...self-sacrificing type of love. It’s a very interesting interpretation.”

Yuuri blushed at her rare praise, and muttered, “Thank you.”

“And then you offered it, in plain view, to Vitya, so there was no doubt you had decided to remain in New York. He can be so very blind sometimes,” she remarked in a scoffing tone, but then continued more seriously, “But Yuuri, you must realise this is only one aspect of love. Are you sure you have come to understand its many other faces?”

Yuuri stared openly at her cryptic words, but which somehow captured the turmoil he was feeling. No, he didn’t know what love was anymore, not with Victor’s unexpected tears still fresh in his mind. When he had given everything to Victor, thinking it was love, it had opened up a chasm between them that clawed at his heart, and he still didn’t fully understand why Victor had been hurt so badly that he stayed so far away.

But Lilia’s stern voice brought him back to reality, as she commanded, “No more of this, to the barre. You’re a danseur. And danseurs keep dancing, even when their hearts are broken.”

 

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“I don’t know what’s wrong with it, Cecilia! Something’s just not right. And I _hate_ the ending” wailed Yuuri, jabbing the spacebar on his laptop to pause the recording of his Love piece from the previous night.

“I told you!” exclaimed Cecilia beside him, “I said. I spent _an hour_ trying to convince you that the ending wasn’t right and you said it was ‘perfectly fine’. And we’re now two days into the SDP, and-”

“This is not helping,” Yuuri interrupted wearily, sinking back into the lumpy sofa near the dressing rooms backstage, and Cecilia followed suit with a huff.

They were two days into the Senior Dance Production, and it was their last performance tonight. Yuuri had been looping the video recordings of his Love piece obsessively, and had summoned Cecilia to the theatre at the crack of dawn before their last rehearsal, hoping to fix the choreography. But it was wishful thinking really. He had failed so far, it wouldn’t be any different now.

He stared blankly at the tableau of eight dancers on the screen. In his choreography, he played the main character who was rediscovering their love for dancing again after the bone-breaking rigors of their training, finding the strength to carry on with the love that flowed in from the people all around them. For the ending, at the highest note in the piece, he had selected the most difficult and highest jump he knew, to signify the heights they could now achieve, before landing in the center of the stage among his fellow dancers, and reaching one arm towards the audience, while the other rested over his heart.

He didn’t know why he kept the last pose in. Initially, it had represented that the dancers were now ready give themselves to the audience, which Cecilia had thought was idiotic. But over the last few weeks, it had become a silent cry for Victor to come back to him, a desperate reaching out to Victor, who now seemed so distant, even when he was only an arm’s length away. Victor had been in the audience for the first two performances, and had seen Yuuri’s plea, but he had remained outside the theatre afterwards, until Yuuri came looking for him, and they would walk back to the apartment in silence.

Perhaps his frustration with the piece was because he could no longer elicit the same happiness that always seemed to shine in Victor’s eyes when he danced, and all he could see was a muted heartache. A pain that he knew he had caused, but didn’t understand why it had cut so deep.

“Maybe, it’s not the piece, Yuuri,” suggested Cecilia slowly, “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I still want you to change the ending. But for the rest of it, maybe…your feelings have changed?”

Yuuri nodded his head, she was probably right. He wanted to change the piece in the irrational hope that it would change reality, but that wasn’t going to happen. Their problems were not going to be fixed overnight.

“Let’s just focus on the ending then,” he said in resignation, and returned his gaze to his outstretched arm on the screen, “What do you think I should change?”

“I’m no choreographer,” Cecilia said thoughtfully, “But I was thinking maybe we’ve been overthinking this. I think maybe the problem is simply that the last jump is more difficult but it really isn’t much higher than the other jumps in the piece. And it’s the highest note in the piece, so I think you need to use all eight dancers to create a more dramatic scene, something more with more height. Like a- like a...”

Even as Cecilia searched for the words to say, Yuuri knew the answer.

It was like a missing puzzle piece that he had refused to see, and now that it had slotted into place, he couldn’t ignore the surge of emotions as reality finally shifted, and he finally understood why Victor was hurting so badly.

“Like a lift,” Yuuri answered in a final tone, “Sorry, I just…” his voice trailed off as he hurriedly stood up and headed to the bathroom.

He managed to lock the stall behind him before the flow of tears began to fall, clouding his vision as they streamed from his eyes.

The many faces of love. Love wasn’t only about giving or sacrifice. It was also about receiving love. And to allow someone to lift you up to heights to that you couldn’t reach by yourself.

The sobs wracked through his body as he realized the deep injury he had caused. It was the part of love that he had been resisting. But Victor had derived so much joy in seeing Yuuri reach beyond his wildest dreams, had found so much life in helping Yuuri to push past his boundaries, for Yuuri to throw everything away and settle for something less had been unbearably painful. Yuuri had refused to see it before, but he couldn't hide from it now.

Just as he trembled to think about ruining Victor’s career, how could he have expected Victor to accept his decision to throw away his dreams? Love was to bring each other to the next level, the joy of constantly nurturing and uplifting each other, to see each other grow and blossom. How could anyone be truly happy if the person you loved always had to remain in the shadows, always letting go of their dreams, always seeing but never reaching their full potential? Just as Yuuri would never dream of asking Victor to give up his life’s work for him, he saw now that Victor would never be truly happy if Yuuri stayed, and Yuuri couldn’t do that to him. He deserved nothing less than a future filled with joy and laughter, not the heavy burden of sadness. Yuuri couldn't stay. He had to keep moving forward, for Victor's sake, and so he couldn't stay.

Yuuri panted heavily as a renewed stream of tears flowed from his closed eyes, his body shaking from the clenching pain in his heart. Because if he couldn’t stay, then he didn’t know what would happen, and they may not have a future together. But he knew now that he couldn’t stay. Not if he truly loved Victor.

 

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The discordant music from the previous piece died away, and the melodic notes of Cecilia’s composition resounded through the theatre. As Yuuri stepped into the light with his fellow dancers, he found the door to his heart and threw it wide open, immersing himself in the love that he knew was all around him. He wove his way seamlessly through the other dancers, and leapt lightly into the air, only to be lifted up synchronously soon after he landed and twirled in the air again.

His heart felt heavy but it had been set free, and he could once again feel the steadfast support of his family, and the firm courage given to him by friends. He could cherish them all as they should be cherished, and be thankful for everything they’ve done to get him this far.

And above all, he could once again feel the blazing joy that came with Victor’s presence in his life. He felt it flowing through him in every move and every step, his heart overflowing with the richness of the love that Victor had lavished on him from the moment they met. It was a pure, unconditional love that had never asked for anything but for Yuuri to flourish and grow. And now that Yuuri was free to receive it, he felt it raising him up to another realm that surpassed his imaginations. 

As the music drew to its highest point, Richardo lifted him effortlessly in the air, and Yuuri felt as if he could touch the stars.

Do you see how much you’ve done for me Victor?

When his feet touched the ground, he spun his way gracefully towards the left corner of the stage, until he could see the faces of the audience, and reached his hand towards the sky, his eyes fixed on dreams just beyond his fingertips.

And I will keep going forwards. For you. For us.

The last notes gradually faded away, as the lights dimmed around them. They hurried off the stage amidst the thunderous applause, and were ushered further backstage towards the dressing rooms. Yuuri was surrounded by his classmates, who were showering him in congratulations and well dones, a sweeping sense of relief passing through them at finishing the last of their major performances.

As Yuuri edged towards the dressing room to change out of his costume, he heard a clear voice that made his heart leap with joy, calling out, “Yuuri!”

He whipped around and saw Victor standing a few feet away, his eyes alight with a keen hope, the first signs of a smile dancing across lips. Yuuri pushed past the press of people, and dashed towards Victor, running as though they’d been apart for an age.

But Victor reached him first, and he lost himself in the enveloping warmth of Victor’s embrace, even as they were thrown to the ground, their lips locked in a fervent kiss.

He felt his back hit the floor, but his fall was broken by Victor’s protective arms, he drew Victor closer and deepened their kiss, ignoring the catcalling around them, desperately missing the tender touch of his lips.

When they broke apart, Victor gazed at him adoringly and said, “You were beautiful today.”

“I will go to Tokyo,” Yuuri breathed, his voice barely containing the elation at having Victor so close to him again.

“I know,” Victor replied, his eyes sparkling with joy and relief, “I saw.”

“What will happen when I do?” Yuuri asked intently.

Victor’s dazzling smile returned to lips, as he said in a gentle voice, “Let’s not worry about it for now. We have five whole months together before you leave. Let’s think about that instead.”

Yuuri basked in the happiness that was radiating from Victor, never wanting to see it dimmed again, and his heart told him this was the right thing to do. He nodded with a small smile, and drew Victor towards him for another kiss.

Five whole months together. At this moment, that was enough.

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All comments welcomed and appreciated!  
> Come chat on [tumblr](https://weberina.tumblr.com/)  
> Here's an art piece by my sister of Yuuri getting kicked out of his flat in the first chapter: [ Link ](https://weberina.tumblr.com/post/168688672921/poooryuuuuuuurrrriiiiii-tt-tt-heres-him). It's so bleak... >~<  
> And because she also needed proof that the house they were viewing exists in real life, here's a [link ](https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/16-Sutton-Sq-16-New-York-NY-10022/2094724620_zpid/) to it. I only added two minor details XD


	12. Resolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god....it's done. And this chapter is double the usual length >_< not sure if that's good or bad!  
> A big thank you to everyone who've been following the story so patiently and leaving your encouraging comments. Can't tell you how much that really helps <3  
> And thanks to my wonderful sister who has been beta reading every single chapter. And for being so detailed with her feedback.
> 
> I hope you like the last chapter.....(i'm not crying)

 

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It was the last day of the semester, and the usual tranquility of the apartment was rattled by the upheaval of the impending move.

An outrageous number of boxes were stacked haphazardly near the entrance, labelled with thick scrawls in black, saying things like “Books n DVDs”, “Makkachin #1”, “Kitchen stuff”, “Glassware. BE CAREFUL”. The living room was dominated by several large wardrobe boxes, which held an eye-watering array of garment bags that hung from groaning metal bars, the thick cardboard protecting their precious cargo from crumpling during the move. Most of them contained Victor’s extensive collection of clothes that had slowly wormed their way into the apartment over the last few months.

The kitchen counter was lined with leftover foodstuff that still needed to be used up, half a box of cereal, a few bulbs of garlic, a quarter bag of rice, an annoyingly full bottle of red wine vinegar, along with the bare minimum of plates and utensils they still needed over the next few days. Several half-filled boxes were dotted around the apartment, surrounded by a stubborn debris of knick-knacks that kept surfacing, and a mountain of bubble wrap.

Makkachin was curled up in his well-loved dog bed, whining slightly because the bulk of his chew toys had been rounded up unceremoniously yesterday, even as he paced back and forth trying to salvage them, and he was guarding the handful that remained watchfully.

Among the chaos, a stack of papers covered in neat Japanese script was scattered on the floor near the work desk, and had clearly spilled from a brown envelope teetering on the edge of the desk, with jagged edges where it had been torn open.

Next to the swirl of papers was a telling trail of discarded clothes, a T-shirt, a suit jacket, a tie, a crumpled shirt with a few missing buttons, a belt...that led like breadcrumbs through the open doors of the bedroom, from which came a low thudding sound as the bedposts thumped repeatedly against the wall.

Yuuri threw his hand above his head to grasp the low headboard, as he arched his back to meet Victor’s relentless thrusts, his nerves an explosion of pleasure at every downstroke. He had one leg hooked over Victor’s shoulder, and the other pressed into the mattress, as the tight grip of Victor’s fingers dug almost painfully into his thighs. His moans became louder at the delicious stretching of his muscles, and new sensations flared to life at the deeper access that Victor had in this position.

Victor’s eyes were closed, his abandoned cries of pleasure punctured by gasps of Yuuri’s name. Yuuri could feel every ridge and vein as Victor pounded into him, the direct contact of his heated skin was overpowering, and Yuuri felt himself falling quickly into oblivion. He heard the heightened intensity of Victor’s cries, and his muscles clenched tightly around Victor’s hard length, which seemed to drive Victor over the edge, as his pounding became slower but deeper and harder. Yuuri quickly wrapped his hand around his own cock, moving his fist in time with Victor’s last thrusts, soon bringing himself to a shattering orgasm, as he felt the warm spurts of Victor’s cum pulsing through him, and Victor collapsed with a gasp onto his chest.

They laid panting on the bed, their faces flushed and their bodies covered in sweat. Yuuri savoured the residual rippling of his muscles around Victor’s softening cock, as he slowly uncurled his stiff leg from around Victor, and laid his hand limply on Victor’s heaving back. Victor eventually began slipping out of Yuuri, leaving a kiss of wetness down Yuuri’s thighs, as he slowly flipped himself onto his back, still trying to catch his breath.

Yuuri’s breath was equally haggard and he stared dazedly at the ceiling, his mind still trying to catch up on the sudden turn of events. The last thing he had expected amidst the frantic last-minute packing was to be ambushed by Victor.

They’d known for weeks that the movers would be coming to collect the bulk of their things on this very day, and they would officially vacate the apartment after a few more days with anything else that remained. But Yuuri’s final weeks at Juilliard had been a constant battle in tying up a myriad of loose ends that never seemed to stop, and Victor’s work was as unrelenting as usual. Before they knew it, the day of the move had crept up on them, and they had spent the previous night running around the apartment, gathering and sorting things into some kind of order before shoving them into cardboard boxes of different sizes. All the while trying not to trip over a distressed Makkachin, who kept circling the boxes that contained his toys.

Yuuri was amazed at the sheer amount of stuff they had accumulated over the past months. His initial insistence that they pack everything themselves, instead of hiring a packing service, had stemmed from his discomfort at someone rummaging through his things. But it was also based on the key assumption that aside from his new clothes, his belongings hadn’t grown much beyond the four boxes he’d arrived with. What he hadn’t taken into account was Victor’s half of the equation, and the slow creep of his paraphernalia into the apartment had increased their packing load by a factor of five. Yuuri had spent much of last night holding up items, and remarking, “When did this get here?”

They’d bubble-wrapped and packed up as much as they could, before collapsing in bed to catch a few hours of sleep. Yuuri had abandoned a few administrative loose ends at school today, and had rushed home as early as he could, with the sole intent of finishing up the rest of the packing. But he hadn’t gotten very far before Victor had burst into the apartment with a thick brown envelope, and was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waited for Yuuri to open it. It had contained his copy of the contract with the Tokyo Ballet, and Saito Yukari’s loopy signature was clearly visible on the last page.

After tucking the stack of papers back into envelope and smiling fondly at Victor’s excitement, Yuuri had expected that they would put aside the contract and continue packing, because the moving company was due in an hour and they still had a few more boxes to go. But he barely had the time to drop the envelope onto the work desk, before Victor had pinned him to the wall, and was attacking his lips with a ferocity that made his knees weak. Things had quickly gotten out of hand after that.

When their breathing finally evened out, Yuuri laughed in disbelief, “That was unexpected,” he said, still reeling from the surprise ambush, “Who knew paperwork had that effect on you.”

A fuzzy smile appeared on Victor’s face, as he replied teasingly, “It’s my turn-on. Nothing’s sexier than putting everything down in legal jargon and signing above the dotted line.”

Yuuri laughed heartily, and he reached across their sated bodies to draw Victor into a tender kiss, savouring the haze of pleasure that still surrounded them like a cocoon.

When their lips parted, Victor remained close to him, his forehead pressed lightly against Yuuri’s, his eyes still closed, and his voice was filled with a gentle reverence, as he said softly, “It’s really happening. You’re really going to Tokyo.”

At Victor’s words, a surge of tangled emotions began coursing through him. Yuuri’s grasp tightened involuntarily on the bare skin of Victor’s neck, as he pulled himself closer and tried to suppress the rising fear of the unknown, forcing himself to focus on the present. They still had time. Victor was happy. And there was a chance, no matter how slim, of a future together. A possibility. A maybe.

The panic began to ebb away, and Yuuri tried to distract himself with their more immediate concerns. He wasn’t sure how long it has been since their little detour, so the movers were due to arrive any minute, and the last thing he wanted was to greet them in their current state.

He released his grasp reluctantly and sat up slowly, saying “Victor, the moving company might be here soon. We should-”

A loud buzzing resounded through the apartment. Oh crap, thought Yuuri with a groan, Too late.

He leapt out of bed and scrambled to the bathroom to wash off the embarrassing traces of their strenuous activities, while Victor threw on his bathrobe and padded casually out of the bedroom to answer the front door.

When Yuuri emerged fully dressed a few minutes later, he saw Victor chatting cheerfully with the movers in the living room, who seemed pleasant, efficient, and above all extremely professional, as they tried not to stare at Victor, who was flitting about the apartment with nothing but his flimsy bathrobe.

Yuuri spotted the trail of clothes they had discarded next to the scattered papers on the floor, and a deep blush spread across his cheeks, as he hastily scooped up the evidence of their ill-timed activities and flung them into the bedroom, while trying to avoid the curious looks of the movers around him.

As the movers began carting the boxes out of the apartment in earnest, he gathered up his contract and tucked it carefully back into the envelope, before resuming his work on filling the remaining boxes as quickly as he could. But the fast pace of the movers meant that he ended up abandoning his task and stuffing the remaining empty space with bubble wrap, so that their contents wouldn’t rattle around too much, and sealing them messily with packing tape.

Before long, the last of their boxes were out the door, and they were left standing in silence, surveying the desolate aftermath of the apartment. The floor was littered with bits of crumpled tape and stray bubble-wrap. The shelves and walls were stripped bare of the tasteful ornaments that usually adorned their surfaces. The work desk was unusually void of papers, save for the thick brown envelope, and the window sill was robbed of its discreet display of books.

It seemed that even the metal fittings above the kitchen counter looked harsher without its glittering row of glassware, or the colorful mugs that hung from the line of silver hooks, and it was odd to see the metallic smoothness of the fridge uninterrupted by the handful of magnets they'd brought back from Hasetsu.

It was as if they were slowly erasing all traces of their presence here, and the unfeeling emptiness reminded Yuuri of the time when he'd first moved in. When his meagre belongings hardly made a dent in the ample space, and he’d felt like a stranger afraid of mussing up the pristine stillness of the apartment. So much has happened since, and he hadn’t realized how much of a home this place had become. It was where his life had gradually been filled with the dazzling brilliance and tender softness of Victor’s presence, where he had learned to wake up every morning to the gentle rays of sun and Victor’s possessive embrace. Where they hid from the prying eyes of the world, and explored how their lives could fit together.  

It was a place of many firsts for Yuuri, where he’d learned the many ways of love and the vulnerabilities that came with it. He hadn’t been aware of the deep emotional roots he had formed to this cozy little haven, because everything had been a matter of course, it had felt right and natural to love Victor, and to love the time and space they shared.

Now it was time to move on. And it felt like he was leaving a part of himself behind.

Victor seemed to sense his sadness, and wrapped a comforting arm around him, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead, as he said, “I know it’s hard to leave. But we'll be here a few more days. There'll be plenty of time to say goodbye.”

Yuuri nodded gratefully, and leaned closer into Victor’s warm touch.  

They would say their goodbyes, and begin weaving another sanctuary in another place.

 

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Victor pouted glumly at his desk, his chin resting heavily in his hand, as he stared blankly at his phone, waiting for it to go off. He glanced moodily at the dozens of emails that had been sent in the past hour alone, mostly from Jason and Georgi, but he couldn’t find the motivation to answer them, and turned his sulking gaze back to his phone.

However, his sullen procrastination was suddenly broken by the sharp clacking of heels in the corridor, and he hurriedly returned his attention to the screen before him, pretending that he had been working all along.

The door to his office swung open, and after a few cursory clicks with his mouse, he stole a furtive upward glance, only to meet the stern gaze of Darlene, as she glared at him with her hands on her hips.

“You were not working. I saw you,” she said in a threatening tone.

Victor gave up his pretense and slumped back in his chair with a sigh.

“Why did the meeting have to be today of all days?” he whined, but before Darlene could launch into a tirade of reasons and a lecture on the delicate balance of his current schedule, he added quickly, “I know why. I was just complaining.”

Fukuda Kenichi was visiting again, and he couldn’t possibly justify changing their plans just because he wanted to attend Yuuri’s graduation ceremony, which was happening right now, only a short walk away. But he was still allowed to sulk a little about it. He’d dispatched two juniors to the ceremony in his stead, one to record a video of the event, and the other to send him pictures and updates throughout the day. But he hadn’t received any messages for nearly half an hour.

Darlene huffed in annoyance, as she loomed over his desk menacingly and closed her impeccably manicured fingers around his phone, quickly lifting it away from his reach before he could react. Victor gave her a panicked look as she said sternly, “Consider this an intervention. You _know_ how important this meeting is.”

Victor sighed in resignation. He knew full well. His entire being over the past months had been solely focused on getting this far. Any spare minute he had was spent on laying the groundwork and fleshing out his ideas sufficiently to piece together a business proposal that the Fukudas would find too enticing to miss. For the entirety of his plan to work, he would need the full cooperation of his partners in Tokyo, and for that, he needed to convince them that his team had the ability to handle the entire process smoothly with minimal risk.

He hadn’t been sure if the Fukudas would even listen to his idea initially, because the family and the company wasn't known for their adventurous nature. Not unlike his own. They'd famously exiled Kenji, the only black sheep in the family, to the New York branch.

But they seemed to have formed an excellent impression of Victor’s team, an image that was first forged with Yuuri’s help, then perpetuated by Jason. And they seemed more open than usual to new ideas. Now that Kenichi was here on a second visit, it had to mean something. It had to mean that they were finally getting somewhere.

But amidst the progress they were making, Victor couldn’t shake off the feeling that this wasn’t what he wanted. He had kept his word to Yuuri, and had scaled back his initial plans drastically to reduce the risks involved. But this now seemed to be both a blessing and a curse. The smaller risks probably contributed significantly to the Fukudas’ willingness to even _consider_ coming on board. But it also meant that the end result may not be enough to keep them together. The outcome may not be substantial enough to cause the kind of upheaval he wanted in the company, which could open a way for them to be together, not in five years, but within the year. Within the next five months.

As things stood, his ideal outcome may not be possible, which meant he could lose Yuuri. And he already begrudged every minute that they had to spend apart in the remaining time they had. To miss a momentous occasion like Yuuri's graduation made him unbearably guilty and upset, and he wanted to be a part of it in any way he could.

His phone went off with a loud ping in Darlene’s unrelenting grip, and he cast her a panicked pleading look.

They stared at each other in tense silence, until she eventually rolled her eyes and said in exasperation, “Alright. One more. Then the phone stays with me until after the meeting.”

Victor received his phone eagerly and unlocked the screen. There was a short message that read, “Commencement speech just over. Awards now.” followed a few seconds later by a picture showing a blurry Yuuri in the distance wearing his cap and gown, receiving a framed certificate. Victor beamed with pride, it was an award of distinction given to outstanding dancers in the year, and his heart swelled at being able to share this moment with Yuuri. He smiled fondly at the picture for a few more seconds. It was a reminder of why he was doing all of this, and why he had to give it everything he had, even if their chances were slim.

He quickly typed a message,

 **I saw you receiving your award! Can’t wait to see the rest of the ceremony tonight. I love you :*** 11:13

And returned his phone to Darlene with a contented smile.

Darlene’s expression softened slightly, as she said in a comforting voice, “You'll get to celebrate with him later tonight. At the second housewarming. Focus on that.”

Victor nodded as a wide grin formed on his face, the thought of the party cheered him up considerably.

That had been his consolation prize. Phichit had approached him directly about throwing a combined housewarming and graduation party, and to Yuuri’s consternation, Victor had given him free rein in the planning, that is, after they'd agreed that the theme should be Moulin Rouge[1]. The decorations were being put up right this very moment, and the catering staff should be arriving in a few hours. Much as he loved his old apartment, it couldn’t possibly have hosted a party with forty guests. And it certainly didn't have enough space to have a temporary full-length pole installed, or accommodate a photo booth, or have a lavish courtesan’s boudoir like in the movie.

Victor returned happily to his screen and began reading the emails from Jason, fully intending to leave Georgi’s for after the the meeting, since he never used one word when ten would do.

Darlene turned to leave with a satisfied smile, seeming to think that Victor was sufficiently motivated to work now. But before she stepped through the glass door, she turned back with a short laugh and said, “I forgot to mention. Jason said that Fukuda Kenichi asked about Yuuri today. Said he was surprised that such a high ranking employee had moved on so quickly. Good thing Jason had a cover story ready.”

Victor chuckled in disbelief, instantly recalling Yuuri's growing mortification as he realized the role he was playing in the last meeting. “I can't believe we actually put Yuuri through that ordeal. It must've been awful for him.”

“Well, you had to,” replied Darlene matter of factly, “The project wouldn't have started off so smoothly without his help. And you wouldn’t have come this far.”

“I know,” said Victor a little thoughtfully. Yuuri had appeared in the nick of time.

“I hope it all works out. For the both of you, I mean,” remarked Darlene with an encouraging smile, “And good luck at the meeting,” she said, as she stepped out of the office.  

Victor gazed appreciatively at her retreating figure, grateful for her constant meddling.

He certainly hoped that luck was on his side today. He'd been lucky once, maybe he would be again

 

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Yuuri pushed aside the heavy red drapes obscuring the stairs, and unhooked a thick black rope blocking his path with a brass sign that said “Privé”.

The decorators had been hard at work even before he got back from the graduation ceremony. Phichit had followed him back to the house as well, but since he was the party planner, he'd immediately made a beeline for the decorators to get stuck in with the party preparations, while Yuuri snuck upstairs to drop off his certificates and change out of his formal wear. He even managed to squeeze in a few hours of unpacking before he heard Phichit’s voice echoing up the stairs, summoning him to come and have a look.

His eyes widened in awe as he stepped into the reception area and surveyed the transfiguration that had taken place. The whole house was barely recognisable, and it felt like he'd stepped into a movie set.

The usual minimalistic furniture on the first floor had all been removed, and the white tiled floor was covered in a smooth black vinyl, transforming the entire space into a sleek dance floor, with a pole affixed to the floor and ceiling in the middle. The walls were lined with blood-red velvet curtains, that infused the atmosphere with a lavish richness. Elegant chairs and tables stood on raised platforms that ran along both sides of the reception area, and the edges of the platforms were lit with two lines of amber lights, marking the boundary of the dance floor. The French doors that led to the first-floor terrace were thrown open and a glimmering curtain of beads hung in the doorway. Two long trestle tables were set up on either side, and a few catering staff were already busily arranging the assortment of glasses and cutlery needed later that evening.

Phichit bounded towards him with a wide grin and a glint in his eyes, as he asked excitedly, “Do you like it?”

Yuuri stared at him in amazement and gasped, “Phichit, this is incredible.”

“You've not seen everything yet! Come with me,” said Phichit gleefully, and he dragged Yuuri down the spiral stairs to the shared dining and kitchen area.

Except, the kitchen was now shrouded behind heavy black drapes, from which the clatter and clinking of food preparations could be heard, and more trestle tables were being set-up, loaded with stacks of plates and rows of glassware.

The dining area was now an opulent, sprawling courtesan’s boudoir, an explosion of deep rich colors in the Bohemian style, with its chaotic mixture of cultures, from vibrant Turkish rugs to intricate Indian incense burners to antique French ornaments, among which were scattered soft chaise lounges and ottomans swathed in silk and velvet sheets. Yuuri could almost smell the incense in the air, as he carefully touched a small classical sculpture that turned out to be actual marble.

But before he could fully appreciate the amount of detail in the decor, Phichit rushed him into the garden to show off the outdoor hookah lounge it had been turned into, with glimmering fairy lights, large comfy sofas, and a multitude of colorful hookahs for communal use. Yuuri eyed the traditional water pipes warily. He’d never smoked shisha before, but Phichit seemed to think the whole Bohemian, courtesan theme wouldn’t be complete without people lounging around, veiled in a puff of steam.

“And now, for the finishing touch,” he proclaimed dramatically, pulling Yuuri back upstairs, parting the beaded curtains with a melodic clatter, as they stepped onto the first-floor terrace.

Yuuri had seen Moulin Rouge enough times with Phichit to recognise the large heart-shaped arch, with its golden strands wound delicately into ornate rococo patterns, that framed the gorgeous riverscape behind. There was even a mini windmill to complete the scene.

“That's for photos,” Phichit exclaimed in excitement, “I still can't believe they actually custom made a replica!”

Yuuri nodded in mute amazement. He didn’t quite know what to think, even after so many months, he was still not entirely used to the luxury that Victor constantly showered on him, and his inner penny-pincher was already tallying up all the expenses, while screaming that it was too late to change anything.

“Stop thinking,” Phichit’s abrupt voice suddenly cut-off his train of thought.

“Wha-” he began.

“You’re overthinking it. Stop thinking,” Phichit repeated more sternly, “And indulge him.”

“Sorry, force of habit,” Yuuri mumbled sheepishly, “I just can’t help feeling it’s all...too much.”

“Well, not for me. Or Victor,” Phichit replied with a smirk, “Or anyone else coming to the party, for that matter.”

Yuuri chuckled softly. That was true enough, Victor had given Phichit a _very_ generous budget for costumes, and every single one of his classmates had taken full advantage of that.

“So, when you see Victor later, what do you say…?” Phichit asked with a pointed look.

“I say thank you,” replied Yuuri in a dutiful but annoyed voice.

“And you _don’t_ say….” Phichit continued to coax.

“That it’s too expensive. Or too much,” Yuuri responded obediently.

“Good. You’re learning,” said Phichit with a satisfied smile, and then proceeded to grin widely, “I think we should change into our costumes before the others arrive.” And Yuuri was once again dragged excitedly up the stairs to the third floor.

Phichit had chosen a magnificent belly-dancer’s outfit in vermillion and gold, with small coins dangling from its embroidered edges that jangled musically at his every move. But the sashes and scarves had been surprisingly tricky, and they spent much longer than expected putting everything together.

Yuuri had just finished helping Phichit with the last touches of his makeup and was fixing his veil, when they heard the quick thudding of footsteps up the stairs and Victor’s animated voice calling out, “The place looks amazing Phichit! And our first guests have arrived!”

Phichit let out a panicked squeal, and brushed past Victor in a jangling commotion, exclaiming, “They can't have! I haven't even started the music!”

Victor laughed heartily at Phichit’s frantic departure, as he approached Yuuri, saying, “He really did a great job. Maybe he should organize the wedding as well.”

Yuuri smiled warmly at him, and melted into the heat of Victor's hands that had come to rest lightly on his hips. “How was the meeting today?” Yuuri asked, knowing how important it was.

“Better than expected,” replied Victor, but then a slight tiredness crept into his eyes and his face fell a little as he added with a small sigh, “But...we have a lot of work to do.”

The fatigue in his voice made Yuuri regret bringing up the meeting, and he quickly searched for something to lighten the mood, “Did you see the photo booth in the terrace?” he asked with an amused smile.

Victor's expression immediately perked up, his eyes lighting up as he replied, “I did and it’s gorgeous! Phichit was so disappointed the decorators didn’t have something like that in stock, and so we found someone who could make it from scratch,” he suddenly paused and glanced nervously at Yuuri, before continuing in a slightly guilty tone, “It’s a little over the top, isn’t it?”

Yuuri blinked in surprise at the sudden wariness, and gazed curiously at Victor.

There was a glint in Victor’s eyes that Yuuri had always loved. It was a look of deep and pure bliss, as if his world couldn’t be more perfect, and Yuuri had only recently come to realize what it was. It was a look of deep satisfaction when Victor knew he was giving Yuuri exactly what he wanted, and at this moment, what Yuuri wanted, more than anything, was to see it in Victor’s eyes again.

“Absolutely not,” Yuuri replied truthfully, “I love it. All of it.”

A look of pure joy washed across Victor’s face, and he leaned forward to place a tender kiss on Yuuri’s forehead, saying softly, “I’m glad.”

It was a while before they descended the stairs again. Both he and Victor had opted to go as gentlemen patrons of the Moulin Rouge. They had selected relatively low-key tailcoats, though Victor’s was a gleaming white, and had embellished them with the quirky addition of top hats and walking sticks.

They were hit by a wall of loud music and the hum of excited chatter as they stepped into the reception area arm in arm. The house was packed with wide-eyed, awestruck guests bedecked in feathers and sequins. Many of them were already on the dancefloor, moving to the quick rhythms of Latin music, while others were lingering on the sides with drinks or nibbles.

Nearly every single one of Satine’s costumes in the film was represented, and a good number had turned up as the lovelorn poet or the jealous Duke. There was even someone dressed up as the magic sidhar, running around the room yelling, “I only speak the truth!” Mila and Sara had blended into the crowd in their matching can-can dresses, giggling as they flashed their voluminous multicolored petticoats. Even Chris had showed up with his mystery man, who was squirming uncomfortably in the tight leather pants that had obviously been forced on him.

Yuuri and Victor were greeted enthusiastically as they passed through the guests with their drinks, everyone still high on the euphoria of graduating, and bedazzled by the glamour of the party. Victor had casually diverted all appreciation he received to Phichit, insisting that Phichit had done most of the hard work.

Yuuri laughed out loud when he saw Cecilia sashaying towards them, dressed in the ludicrous bright red coat of Harold Zidler, the owner of the Moulin Rouge, with tufts of a ginger wig peeking out from underneath her top hat, and a ginger moustache sitting proudly above her top lip.

“Poor effort on the costumes, you two,” she tutted disapprovingly, tapping Yuuri lightly on the shoulder with the top of her impressive walking stick.

“You look great, Cecilia,” Yuuri beamed at her, “You can definitely run this place.”

“I know. It’s this lip rug,” replied Cecilia proudly, “And since I do own the Moulin Rouge, I’ll let you two have a few dances first, and then it’s my turn,” she said with a pointed look at Victor.

Victor chortled at her remark, as he replied happily, “Of course. He’ll be all yours.”

Cecilia gave Yuuri a small wink, and sauntered off in search of a drink, as Victor steered a blushing Yuuri to the dancefloor.

They managed to fit in a few dances, before someone tapped Victor on the shoulder and said in a deep voice, “May I cut in?”

Yuuri couldn’t help the loud snort of laughter when he realized who it was and what he was wearing. Richardo stood provocatively behind Victor, dressed in a glittering silver leotard encrusted with sparkling crystals and strands of silver braids that flared out at the back, together with long black satin gloves, fishnet stockings and dangly diamond earrings.

“Oh my goodness, what are you wearing?” Yuuri choked out between laughs, hanging on to Victor for support.

“What you do mean? It’s the dress from Satine’s Sparkling Diamonds routine[2],” Richardo replied indignantly.

“I know, but I mean, how did you even get the dress in your size?” Yuuri uttered in disbelief.

Richardo shrugged nonchalantly, “I told Phichit what I wanted, and the next thing I knew, he’d found one in the right size. Any clue?” he asked with a vaguely curious glance at Victor.

“Oh, I think I remember this.” Victor replied with wide grin, “Phichit showed me the dress and asked if anyone could double the size, so I sent him to my tailor, Celestino.”

“He is clearly a miracle worker. Fits like a glove,” crooned Richardo, giving a quick twirl to show off the dress, and he fixed Victor with a suave smile, “And if I can encroach further on your generosity, may I have this dance with Yuuri?”

“Certainly. I've been hogging him for far too long,” Victor replied, flashing Yuuri a playful smile, as he placed a quick kiss on Yuuri’s hand and passed it over to Richardo, “I need to find Phichit and thank him properly.”

Between staring at Victor’s sudden retreat and Richardo’s expectant look, Yuuri wasn’t sure if he should be flattered or annoyed that he was being passed around like a trophy without actually being consulted.

“Now, I've been lifting and guiding you all semester,” said Richardo accusingly, and taking up the follower’s position, “So it's my turn to be twirled around the dancefloor.”

Yuuri gave a helpless laugh and resigned himself to his apparent lack of free will tonight, as he guided the much taller Richardo through a series of quick salsa steps, then tried not to lose track of the rhythm from laughing when Roxanne started playing, and Richardo’s moves became overly melodramatic. Cecilia soon came to claim her dance, and after that Yuuri hardly had the time to catch his breath as he was passed on from guest to guest, not able to escape even if he wanted to.

He had been slightly worried about leaving Victor alone for too long, and kept scanning the room to check on him. But every time Yuuri caught a glimmer of the platinum hair, Victor was either chatting merrily or dancing. He looked perfectly comfortable among Yuuri’s friends, and made no move to join Yuuri, only blowing a quick kiss in his direction when they spotted each other.

It eventually dawned on Yuuri that it was Victor’s way of saying not to worry about him tonight and to focus on the party. Or specifically, on one of the last nights he would share with his classmates. Yuuri began to relax at that thought, and allowed himself to indulge completely in the company of friends that he may never see again after tonight.

As the night wore on and the alcohol continued to flow, the euphoria of the graduation began to wear off, and its full implications began to spread among the seniors. More tears began to be shed, and energetic dancing gave way to tearful hugging or manic posing at the photo booth. More people began retreating to the relative calm of the cozy boudoir or the hookah garden, to reminisce or to share their fearful anticipation of the future, or to make tentative promises that they will never lose touch.

The melancholy reached its peak when Phichit started playing parts of the commencement ceremony on the large flat screen in the boudoir, mostly for Victor’s benefit, but it seemed to draw the crowd downstairs. Before long, the guests had filled every corner of space in front of the TV, and the air was thick with nostalgia and gentle chuckles, as they watched each other walking awkwardly across the stage to receive their certificates.

The waterworks really began to flow when Phichit stood up at the end to make an impromptu speech, first thanking Victor and Yuuri for letting them host the party in the house, which was met with a chorus of cheers. His voice then became choked with emotions as he moved on to thank the seniors for the wonderful years they had spent together, and for the close friendships they had formed. There was a fierceness in his voice when he claimed that their paths would most certainly cross again in the future, which in that moment made everyone believe in his conviction.

Yuuri was curled up next to Victor, as they listened to Phichit’s watery speech, tears were falling freely down Yuuri’s face and one of his hands was clutched tightly in Cecilia’s, who was sobbing loudly into a white handkerchief next to him.

When Phichit was done, Yuuri immediately crushed him in a tight hug, suddenly overwhelmed by the thought that he would no longer have an excuse to see his friend every single day, and his hug was returned with equal ferocity, interjected by threats to his life if he didn’t keep in touch. All around them, similar sentiments were being spilled, in the form of hysterical tears, hugs or drinking. A celebration of their four intense years together, and a sadness at their parting before they went their separate ways.

It seemed that the speech had marked the end of an era, which had unleashed the buildup of emotions. But after the thorough venting, the mood became lighter, and their talk turned towards the future, as if they were now ready to face it together, as a collective.

The group began to disperse from the boudoir, fanning back out to the rest of the house, but Yuuri remained to have a long, rambling chat with Phichit and Cecilia, while Victor sat contentedly beside them on the chaise longue. They made plans to meet up, and speculated a little about they would do over next few months, though the focus never remained too long on Yuuri, which he was grateful for. He hadn’t had the time think about life after the graduation, and it was clear on his face that he didn’t know what the next five months in New York would entail.

After a while, Phichit and Cecilia excused themselves as well, leaving Yuuri alone with Victor on the chaise longue, finding that his hand had subconsciously sought out Victor’s as they talked about the future.  

“I noticed you didn’t say much about what you will be doing in the next five months,” Victor said softly when they were alone.

Yuuri stared mutely at their intertwined fingers and the glint of the platinum band.

What he wanted to do was to spend every waking minute with Victor, and ignore the slow push of time driving them towards an unknown future. He wanted to live life as though nothing had changed and this wasn’t his final days in New York. But above everything else, he also wanted Victor to be happy, and shutting himself from the world would not achieve that. He had to start thinking about the intervening months until Tokyo, and make plans to fill his empty days.

He turned his gaze to Victor’s worried face, and gently brushed aside the silver strands that fell into his blue-green eyes.

“I have the July summer camp in two months,” Yuuri began slowly, “After that...I should start preparing for Tokyo.”

“And before that?” asked Victor in a tentative voice.

Yuuri’s gaze fell on the opulent decor and the extravagance that surrounded them. He thought about how much Victor was always aching to give, but how he always held back in case Yuuri felt uncomfortable. He knew that Victor was already doing all he could to keep them together in the future. But in case they couldn't, he knew that Victor wanted to wrap him in the arms of luxury until the day he was out of reach. And for the first time since they've met, Yuuri stopped resisting.

He gently cupped the side of Victor’s face and captured his waiting lips, awashed in his addictive scent.

When Yuuri pulled away, he gazed tenderly at Victor and said with a small smile, “I’ll be indulging myself, of course.”

Yuuri’s heart skipped a beat when he saw the brilliant twinkle in Victor’s eyes

“Do you promise?” asked Victor playfully.

Yuuri smiled at him and nodded.

“Anything you want, Yuuri. Just let me know."

 

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Yuuri carefully rolled up another layer of half-cooked egg, before pouring the last layer of egg mixture onto the rectangular frying pan and swirling it around to coat the pan evenly. He was surprised at how easy making _tamagoyaki_ egg rolls had become after just two months, but they were a staple in his bento boxes and he’d had a lot of practice over the weeks. It still made him chuckle a little when he remembered how unsightly his first few specimens had been, and he’d had to rebrand them as scrambled eggs.

After the last layer was done, he lifted the _tamagoyaki_ from the pan, placed it gently on the waiting bamboo mat on the side, before rolling it up and securing it with an elastic band. A useful tip he’d learned from his mother, which she’d said made sure the egg rolls kept their shape later.

He heard the sharp click of the rice cooker, indicating the rice was done. He quickly mixed the steaming rice with some salt before shutting the lid again to let it sit, while he fished out the five bento boxes in the cupboard and lined them on the kitchen counter.

When he’d first started making bento lunch boxes for Victor, Mila had complained that she should get special treatment as well since she lived in the same house. Two then became three after Chris started protesting, and eventually evolved into five after Victor had sent him a picture of how miserable Jason and Georgi looked with their measly takeout sandwiches.

It was a good thing he only prepared the bento boxes on days when Darlene had marked as ‘definitely free’ at lunchtimes, because it would probably drive him up the wall if he had to do this every day, which would most certainly go against his promise to indulge himself over these few months.

He glanced at the iPad in its stand on the kitchen counter, noting quickly that it was nearly eleven, and Minako-sensei was due to call him back any minute. It was actually very late for him to be preparing the lunch boxes. He would normally be curled up on the couch with a book waiting for Victor to come home, or they would sometimes already be in bed by this hour. But he had spent the last few hours on Skype with Minako-sensei without realizing how late it had gotten, and had to slip in his bento preparations before she called him again.

He smiled in amusement at how hard he was trying to smooth out the wrinkles in the little routine he had gradually developed over the weeks. It hadn’t been easy trying to keep his promise to Victor.

He remembered waking up the morning after the graduation party to the glare of sunlight that had an unfamiliar harshness, and only realized when he checked his phone groggily that it was because it was the garish light of noon. He hadn’t woken up at noon for _years_ , even when he’d been ill, and he hadn’t been too sure whether he liked the feeling of having half the day already gone.

He’d tried to climb out of bed, but was repeatedly deterred by his aching body, his mind chiding him for waking up covered in bruises a second time. Although, this time, he remembered everything, and couldn’t even blame it on alcohol. Maybe a little, he had been quite tipsy. But it was mainly Chris’ repeated taunting towards the end of the night, claiming that he could out-dance Yuuri on a pole any day, which had brought out Yuuri’s competitive side.

The bruises were because his costume had terrible grip and kept making him slip off the pole, and straight onto the floor. In the heat of the moment, he’d stripped down to his shirt and boxer briefs, which actually was still far more decent than the purple thong that had been the only piece of fabric left on Chris. In exchange for good grip, there was now a video of him pole-dancing, half-naked on a few phones, and all he could think was, Oh god, why?

But all embarrassing memories were quickly driven away, when his eye caught the flutter of a note on the pillow beside him, weighed down by a silver Hershey’s kiss.

 

_You looked so peaceful, so I didn’t want to wake you. Have a nice, relaxing day! I’ll see you tonight for dinner at 8. I booked a table at the River Café. You’ll love the views._

_Victor xxx_

 

He felt a jolt of happiness at finding the note, and unwrapped the second-best thing to an actual kiss. But even so, he couldn’t help the constant niggling at the back of his mind, as he wondered what he was supposed to do today.

He’d eventually wandered downstairs after a thorough shower, only to find that all traces of their celebration had been completely erased, and the usual furniture had reappeared in their usual places, as though the party had never happened. He might have been hoping there would be some cleaning up to do, or something. Anything that could be a distraction from the oddly frightening feeling of entire days stretched out before him with nothing to fill them.

In the end, he’d packed up his practice bag and left the cavernous house before his panic could overtake him, his feet instinctively leading him away from the river and into the city center, towards the safety of the practice rooms in Juilliard, thankful that his student card would still work for the next few months. He’d spent a few comforting hours with his familiar workouts, before daring to face the emptiness of the house until Victor came home.

It became easier after that first day, and he gradually found a comfortable routine in this limbo period that was active but not hectic. He kept his morning runs and ballet practices, which always made him feel more grounded. The lessons with Lilia carried on, and he’d continued his pole-dancing classes, finding that they allowed him to explore a wilder, more carefree form of expression. He’d also drawn up a list of dance theories that he wanted to explore in greater depth, and a list of books that he’d always wanted to read, which took up some of his lazy afternoons. Others he spent taking long walks with Makkachin, exploring the hidden gems of the city that he’d lived in for four years, but never had the time to fall in love with.

But that hadn't been enough to fill the long hours between seeing Victor off to work, and greeting him when he came home. Yuuri eventually realized that he needed a hobby, something he could spend a ridiculous amount of time and money on to explore and experiment. Surprisingly, the hobby had turned out to be cooking.

He was already making simple dinners most nights when they were in the old apartment, but now he had the luxury to try new dishes, and experiment with old ones, even attempt to make most things from scratch, like pastry or pasta. The number of gadgets in their kitchenette quickly exploded, and began to spill into the shared kitchen, where the bulkier equipment now resided, like his pizza pans or pasta maker. Their tiny freezer compartment hadn’t been sufficient to hold the containers of homemade soup stock, sauces or sorbets, and so he’d taken over the downstairs freezer as well. He’d tried to learn as many dishes as he could from his mother over Skype, and had signed up to a few cookery courses, including a master class with a Michelin chef, which was probably the absolute limit of his comfort zone in indulgence.

Victor adored his newfound hobby, and was always eager to know what novelties they would be having that evening. There were a few disasters, naturally, but it was always good fun, and shared meals with Mila and Sara became a regular thing when Yuuri was confident enough.

But these were all just things that filled the hours between the cherished moments he shared with Victor, and they faded into oblivion in his memories compared to the blazing colors in Victor’s presence. Waking up together in the airy, sun-filled bedroom at the top floor. Their slow and tender love-making, as though they were drawing out the moment, and memorizing every single line of each other’s bodies through gentle caresses. Hearing the familiar thudding of Victor’s footsteps as he climbed the stairs to their hidden sanctuary. Having dinner on the terrace, as they watched the slow creep of darkness and the gradual twinkling of city lights. The thrill of joy at the interlacing of their fingers, as they strolled along the river in the dusk. The furtive kisses shared in the shadows.

However, after two months of leisurely living, Yuuri found that he was starting to become restless again. He discovered that he was the kind of person who needed a clear goal to work towards, and meandering aimlessly through life didn’t sit right with him. He needed a purpose.

Which was why it was almost a relief when he received a simple email from Darlene that had contained a list of possible flats he could rent in Tokyo.

Victor had tried to bring it up a few times before this, hesitantly expressing his wish to provide the rent for at least the first few months, when Yuuri was still finding his feet. Yuuri hadn’t accepted the offer, not because he was resisting Victor’s show of love, but because of the implications behind his acceptance. If he did, he would have to acknowledge the reality that laid beyond the bubble of stolen time they had been given. They would have to address the possibility of a reality that tore at their hearts, and made them cling more tightly to each other.

But with Darlene’s straightforward, down-to-earth email, simply asking him to go through the options and pick a few, not to ponder about his vague future, that had arrived just when his mind was itching for something more goal-oriented to do. It made him grit his teeth, and push ahead. He had less than three more months before he had to leave for Tokyo, and settling his accommodation would ease the pressure that came with starting a new job. For once, reason won out, and he looked through the list carefully.

All of the flats were near his workplace, and had easy access to public transport. They were also all slightly too large for one person, but not quite comfortable enough for two, or at least, not the level of comfort that he knew Victor was used to. It was as if Victor wanted to prepare them for all eventualities, picking something in between, so that living together could be an option, and if not, then Yuuri wouldn’t be saddled with maintaining a flat that was far too large for his needs. It was sensible. And Yuuri blocked out his fears, as he eliminated the ones that were obviously unsuitable.

That night, he’d sat down with Victor at the dining table, and they went through the possible candidates. Victor had reached across the table for his hand, and their fingers remained linked as they considered each option, both knowing the step they had taken and needing the silent support.

Minako-sensei had travelled to Tokyo on his behalf to view the flats they had chosen, and they’d been Skyping on and off for the last few hours as she surveyed each flat, holding up her phone so that Yuuri could observe the units with his own eyes. They discussed lightly about the pros and cons of each flat, the size, the amenities, the layout, the commuting distance, and in some cases, the neighbours. She’d even scouted out the area to see what shops and restaurants were available. Her viewpoints were surprisingly similar to Victor’s in many ways. But all the options had seemed nearly identical to Yuuri, and so he was leaning towards the one that was closest to his workplace.

Minako-sensei was now finding a quiet cafe somewhere in Tokyo, where they can review the flats and have a proper catch-up. He had just finished sprinkling sesame seeds on the rice balls, and  
was slotting in pieces of seaweed wrapped in kitchen towel into the bento boxes, when his iPad lit up with Minako’s incoming call.

When she appeared on the screen, her face was partially hidden behind a towering glass of green tea parfait with cubes of sponge cake, and a waitress was removing the remnants of a lunch set.

“Sorry it took so long,” she said between spoonfuls of parfait, “I was starving.”

Yuuri grinned at her, as he shook his head. “Please don’t worry. I’m still making the bento boxes for tomorrow.” And he hurriedly placed the lids on the boxes and stacked them neatly in the fridge, while Minako-sensei enjoyed her dessert.

“Which one have you decided on?” she said, when Yuuri reappeared in front of the screen.

Yuuri frowned a little as he replied, “Hmm…All of them seem fine. But…maybe the one on the ground floor?”

“I agree. That’s the one nearest the concert hall, right?”

Yuuri nodded, and his gaze fell on the sleeping form of Makkachin next to him. It was also one of the few that allowed large pets, and maybe he was hoping for too much, but it didn’t seem wrong to prepare for the best case scenario as well.

“All the flats seem a bit pricey,” Minako-sensei remarked casually.

“I know,” replied Yuuri doubtfully, “But Victor’s paying for the first six months, so…”

“He is?” asked Minako in a suspicious tone, “That’s very generous of him.”

“He is,” Yuuri agreed earnestly, “He always is.”

“And you’re...comfortable with this?” asked Minako, keeping her voice carefully neutral.

“Not completely,” Yuuri answered truthfully, “All of them seem a bit too big if it’s just for me. But it makes him happy, so... And I can always move out again if we- if things don’t work.”

“So…he’s not coming to Tokyo?” Minako asked slowly.

Yuuri paused and looked away, as he considered his answer. He knew that Victor was trying his best, but he rarely talked about his work these days, and Yuuri didn’t want to find out about it from anyone else. Darlene’s regular updates were now his only source of information, and it seems that the Russian project still took up the majority of Victor’s time. Also, the wedding with Mila was still going ahead in September. And the flats they had just chosen… All the signs favoured one outcome more than the other, and Yuuri hated that his heart was still clinging on to hope, even when he could see the end approaching.

“I don’t know,” he replied in a flat voice.

After a thoughtful silence, Minako said, “Well, whether he does or he doesn’t, the best thing for you to do is to see how far you can go with this opportunity that he has given you. Do you agree?”

He met Minako’s unyielding glare that seemed to pierce through his soul, and nodded in resolution.

“Good,” she said in a satisfied voice and returned to her parfait, “So, have you talked to Lilia-san about a training schedule to get you into shape for October?”

Yuuri felt the clenching in his chest ease slightly, grateful that Minako-sensei was steering the conversation towards more practical matters that were within his control.

“Not yet,” he replied, “I was going to ask her about it after the summer camp.”

“That’s next week, isn’t it? And it’s three weeks long, so it only gives you less than two months to prepare. Hmm…” She paused to finish the last scoop of her dessert. “I think you should start as soon as possible. When’s your next lesson?”

“In two days,” replied Yuuri.

“Talk to her then,” Minako said firmly.

Yuuri stared at the screen mutely. He knew that Minako-sensei was right. Without the daily rigors of his curriculum, some of his techniques were starting to get rusty, and he’d started gaining weight as well, which was always bad news for a danseur. But it was another step towards the future that he was afraid to take.

The waitress came back to clear the table and present the bill, but Minako’s keen gaze remained fixed on him.

Eventually, he replied in a heavy voice, “I’ll talk to Lilia.”

Her expression softened, and she added, “It will make Victor happy.”

The words felt both like the piercing of broken glass and the warmth of the sun, causing his heart to churn in joy and anguish, but somehow gave him the courage to move forwards. He gave a small nod.

Minako-sensei cast a searching look at him, and seemed to find a trace of something to reassure her, because she said in a final tone, “I need to catch the flight home soon, so I’ll call you again in two days, and we can talk about Lilia’s plans.”

She made a move to end the call, but Yuuri hurriedly blurted out, “Minako-sensei,” which made her look at him in surprise, as he continued, “Thank you for everything.”

She gave him a crooked smile, and ended the call, leaving Yuuri with a blank screen.

It was odd. It had been painful to take those first few steps, but now that the decision has been made, Yuuri could feel the excitement and love for his artform coming back. It was as if a fog had been lifted, and he could once again envision his future career, without shrinking away from the uncertainty and hurt.

He heard the familiar thudding of footsteps up the stairs, and Victor calling out, “Yuu-ri! Is it bento day tomorrow? Mila says it is but I wanted to check with you.”

His heart leapt in joy at the melodic voice, and he hurried towards the landing to greet Victor. He knew that he had taken the inevitable step into the future. But for tonight, he would pretend that he hadn’t, and he would imagine that the rest of his days would be spent waiting eagerly at the top of the stairs with Makkachin to meet Victor’s dazzling smile.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

The day had started with a flurry of wedding mania. But Victor, for the life of him, could not give a tinker’s toss about any of it.

The company’s warhorses were unanimous in their desire to see an early wedding, and so the date had been set in late September, leaving just enough time for the necessary preparations.

But due to their reluctant participation in the marriage, both Victor and Mila had been neglecting the wedding arrangements, and hadn’t even hired a wedding planner until the day it was absolutely necessary for decisions to be made. That meant, they had to line up the fittings for their wedding costumes, the selection of the wedding decor, and the tasting for the wedding menu all in one morning.

Since Sara was the maid of honour, and Chris was the best man, they had tagged along as well. And the four of them were shuttled back and forth the city, as they received the boisterous fussing of the Celestino family, then had half a dozen flower arrangements shoved in their faces, and were finally sat around a small table at the wedding venue sampling the possible menu choices.

They’d just finished the hors d’oeuvres, and were now sampling the four possible palate cleansers. Victor wrinkled his nose at a particularly experimental flavour and pushed it away. He looked around the table and was relieved to see that the others shared the same dubious expression.

“Not the tarragon and gooseberry sorbet, I think?” he said with a raised eyebrow, which was met with a low chorus of disgust, and they moved quickly on to the next option for the palate cleanser.

None of them was taking anything too seriously, as evidenced by the snorts of stifled laughter whenever the wedding planner said something along the lines ‘a symbol of everlasting love’ or ‘you’re the happiest couple I’ve ever seen’. There was an underlying consensus that it was all a big joke. Like the engagement party they had, which _coincidentally_ had fallen on April’s Fools.

In fact, Victor probably would have found the whole wedding preparation experience highly entertaining, if his mind wasn’t already heavy with thoughts about Yuuri. Or rather, having to tell Yuuri that he would be out of the country for ten days next month.

The trip was a sudden decision that had been made yesterday, and had everyone scrambling to get ready for it. Another reason he was annoyed at having to sit through this farce. It would be the culmination of all their efforts, and Jason had been going around the office with his jaw dropped open, muttering to everyone, “Can you believe we actually pulled it off?”

Victor himself should be singing and dancing at the prospect. But he couldn’t and his face was already a little sore from forcing himself to smile so much yesterday, not wanting to dampen the jubilant mood. He’d skipped the celebratory drinks, and had gone home as soon as he could, suddenly desperate to see Yuuri.

It was true that this ten-day trip was the outcome his team had been hoping for, nobody in the company expected them to get this far, and Victor was proud of their achievements. But he couldn’t help the screaming at the back of his mind that everything they were doing wasn’t enough, it wasn’t nearly enough, and Yuuri deserved so much more than he could give.

“It’s a shame Yuuri couldn’t be here today, Victor.” Sara’s kind voice cut through his gloominess, and he smiled warmly at her.

“He’s busy with the summer camp. But at least his day is already more productive than ours,” he joked lightly.

“Part of me wishes he wasn’t busy,” Mila chipped in casually, “I miss having those bento lunches. Maybe we should start making our own.”

Victor’s smile widened. Yuuri was a constant surprise. He hadn’t known what to expect when Yuuri said he would be indulging himself these few months. But Yuuri had taken to the culinary arts like fish to water, and Victor marvelled at the fact that even in his attempt to pursue pure hedonistic enjoyment, he still managed to brighten the lives of people around him, while also acquiring a useful skill in the process. Some of his dishes were probably better than what they’d tasted today.

Not that it was a bad thing to see him busy with work again. But relaxed and domestic Yuuri had been a wondrous treat, a beautiful complement to his fiery determination, and had only served to deepen Victor’s adoration.

“Oh yes, Victor,” Mila asked curiously, “Didn’t I hear that little Yuri Plisetsky is at the Juilliard summer camp again this year?”

“Yes, he is,” replied Victor with a grin, “He was thinking of giving his place away, but then decided to go when he heard that Yuuri had accepted the Tokyo offer.”

“He’s not being very subtle about his massive crush. I _also_ heard that he hunted down poor Yuuri at the school and chewed him out for turning down the offer,” Mila choked out, nearly laughing herself to tears.

“Good thing he did,” said Victor with a fond smile, “Remind me to get him a car for his eighteenth.”

“Let’s hope he doesn’t fly over to Tokyo in hot pursuit after Yuuri leaves,” Mila continued, cackling into her pear sorbet.

Victor’s smile froze on his lips and he felt his heart go cold at her words, but he tried to keep the hurt out of his voice as he replied weakly, “Yeah...we should keep a closer watch on him.”

Mila seemed to have missed his sudden discomfort, her attention already returning to Sara.

But Chris didn’t miss anything, as he leaned in and muttered in a low voice that only Victor could hear, “Smile all you want. But I know it tears you up every time someone talks about Yuuri leaving.”

Victor met Chris’ serious eyes, and the facade of smiles fell from his face, as he replied, “What else can I do, Chris? I can’t keep him to myself forever. I need to accept that.”

He looked away, and stared at the melting sorbet before him. He’d selfishly kept Yuuri to himself for two whole months, and it was only making it more difficult to let go, if and when they had to. But he wanted them to have as many memories as they could together. Sweet, soft and beautiful memories of every single day they shared that would always remain no matter what happened.

Chris seemed to have read his mind, and asked carefully, “Have you told him about our ten-day trip next month?”  

Victor shook his head curtly. He’d meant to tell Yuuri last night.

He had tried to remain rational, to keep a steely grip over the turmoil of emotions. He told himself that at very least, their constant uncertainty would soon be over, and Yuuri wouldn’t be kept waiting in this limbo for much longer. Their future would become clearer after the trip, either way.

But the truth was, he didn’t want to know. He wanted to remain hidden in this liminal space, where Yuuri was content, and happy, and never had to leave. But that thought was equally deplorable to him.

He couldn’t suppress the growing regret at spending all this time on the project, when these might be their last days together after all, even after all his efforts, and every minute that had passed should have been devoted to Yuuri. And now, he was supposed to give up another ten days out of their precious time for something that may not be worth anything to them in the end.

Victor was suddenly overwhelmed by a desperate need to see Yuuri. His heart ached painfully at Yuuri’s keen absence. Why was he here deciding these silly details, doing something he really didn’t care about, when he could be with Yuuri, who was only a few blocks away. The wasted time was a physical assault on his mind, stinging like an open wound.

He forced a small smile, and said in a strained voice to the table at large, “I’m sorry. I think I may have to leave. Could you make a decision for me? I really don’t mind any of it.”

Mila shot him a questioning look, as she said warily, “Of course, Victor. Is something the matter?”

“No, no,” he replied hastily, as he stood up to leave, and darted a quick glance at Chris, “I just- I won’t be long. Take your time. And someone send me a message when you’re heading back to the office.”

He strode quickly out of the hotel and into the bustle of the street, his footsteps rapid on the pavement, which soon brought him to the familiar entrance of the school. He knew the buildings well enough to guess where Yuuri might be, and he only had to check a few rooms before he spotted the tousled black hair and the blue glint of Yuuri’s glasses through the small window of one of the dance studios. Victor felt the tight grip on his heart loosen at the comforting sight.

There was a bemused expression on Yuuri’s face, as he stood listening patiently to Yurio’s heated ranting, and then somehow placated his fury with a few simple words and a calm smile. Victor smiled at how easily Yuuri seemed to handle the prickly Yurio. The moody teen had a look of grudging admiration and was about to skulk back to the rest of the group, when he noticed Victor looking at them and gestured towards the door. Victor waved cheerfully at Yuuri, as he hurried towards the door, his face lit up by a surprised but delighted smile.

“I thought you were still at the tasting?” he asked breathlessly, when he’d closed the studio door quietly behind him.

Victor beamed at him, and replied, “I missed you.”

A light blush appeared on Yuuri’s cheeks, as he laced their fingers together and led them away from the studio.

“Aren’t you needed back there?” Victor asked in a panic, he hadn’t intended to interrupt Yuuri’s day.

But Yuuri only shook his head, and replied, “They’ll be fine. Richardo’s with them. It’s nearly time for a break anyway. Do you still need lunch?”

“Absolutely,” Victor replied cheerfully, since he’d only tasted the hors d’oeuvres and a spoonful of sorbet.

They found a secluded corner in the cafeteria near the windows, and chatted light-heartedly over their simple lunch, mostly about the wedding preparations and Yurio’s latest antics. Yuuri’s gentle laughter always made Victor feel safe, and free to be himself, like an oasis in the midst of harsh reality, and he never wanted their stolen moment together to end.

When they’d cleared their plates, Yuuri looked expectantly at him, as if waiting for him to explain his real reason for being here. Victor fumbled nervously with the serviette in his hands, as he searched for the right words. He hated being the one to shatter the tranquility they shared, but Yuuri should know about his trip as soon as possible.

“Yuuri,” he began hesitantly, “About next month…”

“I know about the trip,” Yuuri interrupted in a calm voice, and Victor shot him a look of surprise, as he explained with a small smile, “Darlene still sends me your schedule. She sent me an updated one yesterday.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Victor whined, “I spent the whole night thinking about how to bring it up. Are you upset?” he asked cautiously, his eyes searching for hints of Yuuri’s reaction.

Yuuri’s gaze fell a little, but his voice was steady as he replied, “A little. Initially. But I know that you wouldn’t be gone for so long if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. Where will you be going?”

Victor hesitated, unsure about how much he should say, as he met the intent gaze of Yuuri's brown eyes. He didn't want to needlessly raise Yuuri’s hopes up, but it wouldn't be fair to keep him waiting in the dark without at least some explanation.

“We'll be going to Tokyo,” he said after a tense silence.

Yuuri immediately perked up in his seat, a glimmer of hope was apparent in his eyes. His breathing quickened, and his lips parted slightly, looking as if there was something he was bursting to say.

But after a while, he seemed to decide against it, and asked instead in a tentative voice, “Who’s looking after the Russian project when you’re gone?”

In a way, Victor was disappointed that Yuuri had decided not to push for more details. Perhaps he had been hoping that if he could tell Yuuri everything, he would finally find out if the most likely outcome of the trip would be enough to keep them together. But without knowing, he would be driven to achieve more. And in their silence, he could have hope.

“Georgi again, actually,” Victor replied with a small smile, “He’s getting quite good at it.”

“Will you miss me?” Victor asked almost playfully, trying to lighten the mood.

But a flash of distress appeared in Yuuri’s eyes before he quickly looked away, as if trying to hide his emotions. They sat without speaking, a heavy silence settling in the air between them. Victor glanced at Yuuri’s downcast eyes, which easily betrayed how deeply upset he really was.

Victor reached across the table and gently held Yuuri’s hands in his.

“I’ll miss you,” he said softly.

“I’ll miss you too.” Yuuri’s gaze remained lowered, but his grip tightened in Victor’s hand.

“I’ll call you every day, and I’ll message you when I can,” Victor promised earnestly, “You’ll be sick of me.”

“Okay.”

Yuuri’s terse reply had quivered with the effort of holding back his emotions. The distress behind it felt like a vice around Victor’s heart, and he couldn’t control the panic that began to overtake him.

“Maybe I won’t have to go. They would understand. Maybe Jason or Chris or Mila could-“

“Victor, you have to go.” Yuuri’s gentle voice interrupted his frantic words. He lifted his eyes to find Yuuri looking directly at him.

“I won’t if you don’t want me to,” he said, almost pleadingly.

“I want you to,” Yuuri replied firmly, “And no matter what your plan is for us, I trust you completely.”

The words surrounded him in a bubble of calmness.

Yuuri was placing their relationship entirely in his hands, and more importantly, Yuuri believed that he could keep them together. It was all the courage he needed to face the world.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Victor leaned against the railing on the riverside, and enjoyed the caress of the wind in his hair. He had reserved their usual table at the River Cafe and was waiting for Yuuri near the entrance. Unsurprisingly, Yuuri seemed to be running a little late, and it might’ve been wiser if Victor had gone into the restaurant to claim their table before it was given away. But the feel of the wind and the gorgeous riverscape that ran along the lower edge of Manhattan had been irresistible, and so he’d remained here. A few more minutes wouldn’t hurt.

He’d returned from Tokyo this morning, and had resisted the urge to head straight home to Yuuri after landing. It was vital that he spoke to his father as soon as possible, and after that he'd had to address the rest of the senior management.

What he had brought back from Tokyo was both more and less than he’d expected. More, because he hadn’t expected it succeed at all. But less, because the changes in the company were not as drastic as he’d hoped. But, no matter, he’d done all he could, and his heart was now thudding with anticipation at seeing Yuuri again.

The ten days apart had been excruciating, even with the sporadic messages throughout the day and the hour-long calls before he went to bed. It made him realize how closely they’d been living together all this time, and how intertwined their lives had become, that to wrench them apart had been uncannily painful and disorienting.

He hadn’t told Yuuri much more of what they were doing in Tokyo, and Yuuri never asked. But now there was no running away from it. They had to know what the future entailed. One way or the other. Although the majority of him hoped Yuuri would accept what he had to offer, there was a small part of him that hoped Yuuri wouldn’t, that Yuuri would go on to find a more wholesome happiness somewhere else, something much better than what Victor had to offer.

But he’d left the choice to Yuuri right from the beginning, whether to stay or leave, and he wasn’t about to change it now.

He heard the entrance to the restuarant open behind him followed by the sounds of footsteps, which he ignored, but whipped around in surprise when he heard Yuuri’s voice calling out, “Victor?”

“Yuuri! I thought you were late?” exclaimed Victor, hurrying towards him

“I was too early,” Yuuri replied with a bright smile, “I was waiting in the restaurant.”

As soon as he was within reach, Victor slipped his arms around Yuuri and drew him close into a crushing embrace, his lips hungrily seeking out Yuuri’s, as though the past ten days had been ten years. Yuuri returned the fervent kiss and the possessive hug with equal intensity, clinging on to Victor in relief and desperation.

It was a long while before either of them were willing to break apart, and when they did, their arms remained wrapped tightly around each other, their foreheads pressed lightly together.

“What were you thinking about?” asked Yuuri softly, his hand still warm on the side of Victor’s neck.

Victor gave him a nostalgic smile, “Hasetsu,” he replied, “The wind reminds me of it.”

Yuuri closed his eyes and turned to face the wind, his hair fluttering gently. “I can almost hear the seagulls.”

As the wind died down, they began walking back to the restaurant with their fingers interlaced.

“Can tell me now what you’ve been doing in the past ten days?” asked Yuuri curiously.  

“Oh, this and that,” replied Victor evasively, “Can we talk about it inside?”

He saw Yuuri’s face fall a little at his reluctance to elaborate, but things were quite complicated and he wanted to spell everything out clearly, so that there could be no room for misunderstanding. He didn’t want Yuuri to make a decision without a full understanding of everything, and so they walked through the double doors of the River Cafe in silence.

The restaurant had an understated, almost stark decor, with its plain off-white walls, thin wooden beams overhead, simple black light fixtures, and comfy wicker chairs. The plainness seemed almost deliberate, as though anything more embellished would distract the diners from the magnificent riverscape and the Manhattan skyline offered through large windows that lined the side of the restaurant. Their usual table was in a nook at the far-end of the room next to one of the large windows, which gave them an unobstructed view and a degree of privacy.

As they approached their table, Victor realized that Yuuri must have been here a while, because the basket of bread was already half empty, and he chuckled inwardly at their miscommunication. He ordered as soon as he sat down, already knowing what he wanted from the Prix Fixe lunch menu, and Yuuri did the same, presumably having decided while he was waiting.

“Sorry, I should have checked that you were here,” Victor apologised, after the waiter had taken their order.

“No, it’s my fault,” Yuuri replied quickly, a blush forming on his cheeks, “You’re not used to me being early.”

Victor let out a small laugh, he couldn’t disagree with that statement.

Yuuri was looking expectantly at him, waiting to hear the full story, but he couldn’t help the slight foot dragging that came from his remnant fears.

“How’s your training with Lilia?” he asked in genuine interest.

Yuuri seemed annoyed at his question, but replied anyway, “OK, I think. We’ve been through all the basic techniques, and my weight’s back down to the right level, so…” His voice trailed off, and his expectant gaze returned to Victor.

“Ok, so Tokyo.” Victor began slowly, “As you know, we formed a partnership with the Fukuda company in Tokyo. You were there,” he teased, and the beginnings of a smile tugged at Yuuri’s lips.

“We decided to put forward a joint proposal to the whisky branch of the Suntory company.”

“Suntory?” Yuuri blurted out, his eyes sparkling with intrigue.

“Yes, Suntory. It’s one of the largest companies in Japan that makes alcoholic drinks. They own many of the whiskies made in Japan, and even a few single-malt whiskies from Scotland. Which was why the Fukudas were quite wary of our proposal at the start. But because of your help, we made a good impression on them.”

“But I didn’t-” Yuuri began to protest, but Victor stopped him.

“Yuuri, you did help us. A lot. No matter what you believe.” Victor told him firmly, and continued before Yuuri could disagree again, “The good impression made it easier for them to trust us, and they agreed to come on board once our plans were more solid. We came up with a range of whisky and cigar gift sets, pairing specific Nikiforov cigars to specific Suntory whiskies to suit a wide selection of tastes and images. They’re perfect as gifts to impressive any business client, especially in Asia, so we should have quite a big market.”

“How big a market?” Yuuri asked dryly.

“Very,” Victor answered with a slight quiver in his voice, his eyes glinting, “Smaller than the market in Russia, but in Japan we’ll gain a foothold into China and the rest of region.”

Yuuri’s eyes were wide and his breathing was heavy. Victor could see him struggling to suppress the rising hope, as he gasped, “Victor, what happened in Tokyo?”

“We’ve secured a deal with Suntory.”

Yuuri’s hand flew up to his mouth, muffling a cry of surprise.

“It’s only a pilot project for now. To see how well the products do,” Victor added quickly.

“I’ve spoken to my father about it and the other old timers. They believe the potential for this project is too great to be missed, and they wanted someone more experienced to head it. Since I was the one to close the deal, I’ve been asked fill this role. The Japan team will be expanded massively, and Jason’s searching for a permanent office as we speak.”

Yuuri’s hand slowly dropped from his mouth, and he asked breathlessly, “And Russia?”

“I will still head that as well since it’s equally important, but Georgi will now be my second in command. I told them that I’ve been training him ever since that holiday we went on in March, and he’s more than ready to take on his new role.”

Yuuri’s hands were quivering slightly on the table, and his gaze was transfixed on Victor.

Victor blushed slightly, as he admitted, “I initially wanted to approach all the whisky companies in Japan and make the project so large that I’d have to be assigned solely to it, and Georgi would take over the Russian project completely. But I suppose it would’ve been a stupid thing to do, and I’m glad you stopped me from taking that kind of risk.”

He paused to dart a quick glance at Yuuri, whose intense gaze was boring holes into him, before continuing in a nervous voice.

“Since there’s only the deal with Suntory, I’ll have to split my time evenly between the two projects. It means I will need to travel back and forth between New York and Tokyo every few months to keep an eye on both. I’ve also agreed to keep up my marriage with Mila for the company’s image.”

Victor swallowed tensely, his hands growing icy cold, as he said, “So, this is what I have to offer. I can be in Tokyo for a few months at a time for the foreseeable future. More, if the project goes well. Less, if it doesn’t. I will still be married, so we can’t- I mean, it won’t be much different to how things are now, though it might be a little better in Tokyo.”

Victor reached his own shaking hand towards Yuuri’s and squeezed it tightly, as he asked in a small, quivering voice, “I know it’s not a lot, but is this enough, Yuuri? Is this enough to keep us together?”

Victor’s breath was caught in his throat, as he waited for the answer, staring at Yuuri’s unreadable expression.

But before he could pull away to give Yuuri the space to consider, he heard the loud clatter of cutlery being scattered onto the floor, and felt the hot tears running down the skin of neck. His body had been pulled into a tight embrace across the table, as Yuuri clung tightly to him, shaking with loud sobs, saying again and again between the tears, “More than enough. So much more than enough.”

 

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~*~*~* Three years later ~*~*~*

 

Yuuri scribbled his signature over the dotted line, and pushed the stack of papers back towards the lawyer. He cast a shy glance at Victor, who gave him an encouraging smile, as he fiddled nervously at the absence of a ring on his fourth finger, a slight indent on his skin marking where it usually was. Yuuri looked down at his own hand, noting the same trace on his finger. It was odd not to be wearing the platinum band, but they needed it for the ceremony later, and the rings were stowed safely in Phichit’s pocket.

The lawyer slid the papers towards Minako-sensei, and then to Phichit, who both left their signatures on the document as well.

After checking that everything was in order, the lawyer smiled widely at the four of them, and said, “Mr. Katsuki, you now have joint ownership with Mr. Nikiforov of the apartment in New York and the house in Tokyo, as witnessed by Ms. Okukawa and Mr. Chulanont.”

Yuuri accepted his copy of the documents gingerly, and passed them on to Phichit, who was holding on to his things for the time being, and returned his attention to the lawyer.

“I’ve also been asked to provide you with a copy of Mr. Nikiforov’s will, which was signed and witnessed today. I’ve highlighted the parts that apply to you. As you know, since Ms. Babicheva is his wife, she will inherit the majority of his assets, but he has set up a trust fund for you, which in essence gives you a fixed income in the event of his death. And of course, full ownership of the two properties we’ve mentioned.”

Yuuri flipped through the new document and scanned it quickly, noting where the highlights were, before giving them to Phichit as well.

“And lastly, a copy of Mr. Nikiforov’s living will, which names you as the agent and gives you the power to make decisions if he is incapacitated. I advise that you read this carefully.”

Yuuri held the last document delicately in his hands. He had asked Victor many times whether he was sure he wanted to do this, but each time Victor had said he wanted no one else.

His mission accomplished, the lawyer stood up from the low table of the communal area and said politely, “If you don’t mind, I will now join the other guests.” And he walked unsteadily out of the inn, his legs presumably cramped from kneeling on the floor for too long.

“Well that was interesting,” Phichit said with a yawn and a stretch, “Thank god it’s over. I need to go make sure the floral arrangements haven’t been moved around again.”

“Thanks, Phichit,” Yuuri with an appreciative smile, “Everything looks beautiful.”

Phichit beamed at the praise. “How could I not make everything perfect for today?” He glanced quickly at his watch, and added, “Wait another fifteen minutes, then come out and stand at the edge of the carpet. I want everyone to be seated before they see you.”

Yuuri nodded, and Phichit turned to hurry out of the inn.

Minako-sensei stood up lazily as well, and said, “I’ll go too. I want to catch that lawyer and talk to him about this trust fund business.” She cast an apologetic glance at Victor, and added, “Not that I’m doubting your arrangements. I just want to know how it works.”

“Of course you must,” Victor replied in a sincere voice, “I’d be glad for a second pair of eyes.”

When they were alone, Yuuri huffed in slight annoyance at Victor. Even after three years, Victor still managed to do something that was just slightly more flamboyant and outrageous than Yuuri had grown used to. Flying out their lawyer to Hasetsu just so they could sign all these documents at the inn, right before the ceremony, was right up there with closing a multibillion dollar deal so that they could stay together.

“You like it, really. It’s romantic” Victor teased him, and leaned over to place a playful kiss on Yuuri’s lips.

Yuuri shook his head, and laughed helplessly. He had to admit that it was romantic, and he couldn’t quite believe they had come this far.

Yuuri was now a soloist in the Tokyo Ballet, and Victor was now spending the majority of his time in Japan.

They’d survived the choppy times of their first two years, when Victor was always on the move, and they’d struggled to cope with the constant upheavals in their lives, which seemed to change every two to three months. Each time Victor left the country, they’d had to re-learn how to live alone, and each time he returned, they had to find space again for each other in their lives. But, in a way, even that had brought them closer. To know that their bond could withstand the ravages of harsh reality.

It was becoming easier now. Georgi had stepped up his responsibilities in the Russian project, freeing up Victor to focus more on the Japan project. He still travelled back and forth quite a bit, but Tokyo was now his base, and his absence could now be counted in weeks instead of months. He and Mila still had to parade around as the happy couple. But Mila was transferred to the Tokyo branch this year, and Sara decided to follow her, which meant Victor had one fewer reason to return to New York. They’d sold the house beside the river, and bought its equivalent in Tokyo.

Seeing the possibility of calmer times ahead, Victor had proposed this year. And Yuuri had said yes without hesitation.

There were many caveats, of course. Their union would not be legally recognized or have a legal standing. They had no rights to each other’s affairs or properties. In the eyes of the law and of society, they were outsiders to each other’s lives, no more connected than two random strangers on the street. But they’d done as much as they could to mitigate that with the help of their lawyer, replacing all the natural rights given to a married couple with wills, deeds, trust funds, and all the other necessary paperwork.

And Victor wanted all of it to be done today, on the day of the ceremony, so that their symbolic gesture would be truly complete, he wanted them to receive the acknowledgement of society and the blessing of their loved ones at the same time. It was as close to the real thing as he could manage.

Yuuri didn’t need this extravagance, he would have been happy with just a ceremony to celebrate the fact that they could now commit freely to each other without fear or uncertainty. That they could see a future together, and wanted everyone they loved to mark the occasion.

After fifteen minutes, Yuuri followed Victor out of the inn and towards the beach, and they stopped at the edge of a long white carpet.

The crashing waves of the ocean drowned out the humming chatter of the guests who had all taken their seats under the white canopy ahead, surrounded by a beautiful explosion of flowers. The carpet underneath their feet extended down the aisle between the rows chairs to an elegant white podium, where he could see Chris and Phichit waiting eagerly on either side, poised to complete their duties. So many of their friends had travelled to Hasetsu from all over the world to attend the event, packing the inn to bursting point, and Yuuri caught glimpses of them chatting and laughing through the fluttering drapes of the canopy. Yuuri’s family filled the first row of seats on the right, and his sister was already dabbing furtively at her eyes. To the left he could see the tall and proud figure of Victor’s father, a surprising last-minute addition to their guest list, that had caused Victor to break down in tears.

They saw Yakov walking up to the podium, looking more tense than usual, a stack of notes clutched tightly in his fist. He’d agreed to officiate the ceremony but now looked as if he regretted his decision, as sweat was gleaming brightly on the top of his head.

Yuuri heard the first notes of music wafting through the air, and looked up Victor’s dazzling smile, finding no trace of worry or troubles, only pure happiness.

They interlaced their fingers, like they’ve done a thousand times before, and yet a thrill of joy still coursed through Yuuri’s veins at their simple touch.

The air was thick with a feeling, an emotion, or a sentiment. It was all around them, in everything they did, in all the words they said. It held them together when the world was tearing them apart. It lifted them to heights they could never achieve alone. And at this moment, it was pushing them ahead into a future that was bursting with joy.

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 [ Moulin Rouge ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moulin_Rouge!) [ return to text ]  
> In case anyone's not seen the movie.  
> 2 [ Satine's Sparkling Diamonds routine ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a1REfTIc5po) [ return to text ]  
> I'm on [tumblr](https://weberina.tumblr.com/)! Come chat :)
> 
> I will most probably write a side story on Seung Gil and Kenji XD Not sure how to get the word out once it's uploaded so I may add it as an extra chapter to this story.


	13. Epilogue: Legacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! So, here's the epilogue. And this will probably be the last addition this AU. (I'm not crying T_T T_T)  
> Hope you enjoy it <3 <3
> 
> As usual, beta'd by my wonderful sister :D :D (thank you for making me go back and rewrite lots of it......)

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~*~*~*EPILOGUE~*~*~*

 

There was an air of crisp excitement as they walked briskly past the glass doors of the clinic, escaping the biting cold of winter into the cosy warmth of the reception. Victor could feel a slight tension in Yuuri's lithe frame, and gave him a small reassuring squeeze around his shoulders. Beside them, Sara was attempting to educate Mila on the basics of the upcoming procedure, but her attempts were swatted away by inane jokes and remarks like, “That’s just a giant needle they’re gonna stick in me, right?”

Victor glanced in amusement at the gradient of expressions in their motley collection, from Yuuri’s worried frown, to Sara’s mock annoyance, and Mila’s easy nonchalance. A casual observer would be forgiven for mistaking Yuuri as the one who was about to undergo a small operation.

The receptionist smiled warmly at their approach, and promptly retrieved their appointment before showing them into the cheerful waiting room. Victor remembered being pleasantly surprised by the clinic at their first visit. He’d arrived with slight misgivings, expecting sterile white rooms with stern doctors in lab coats, all intended to intimidate the uninitiated. Instead, they had found an inviting atmosphere, with soft pastel walls and bright colorful chairs. The receptionist hadn’t even batted an eyelash when the appointment booked under the name Mila Nikiforova had conjured up four expectant faces looming over the counter, double the usual number of people involved.

The waiting room was nearly empty, which wasn’t surprising, considering that they had coordinated their schedules to free up the least popular time of the least busy day for the clinic. It was unlikely that they would run into anyone they knew here, but it was still best to be on the safe side.

This was the second time that all four of them were present at the clinic. It was usually either Yuuri or Sara who accompanied Mila to the appointments. Victor had avoided them as much as possible, partly because he was still slightly unsure and more than a little uncomfortable at the entire undertaking. But he couldn’t escape this particular visit, he had an inevitable part to play, which made him grimace in apprehension, as he settled down in the comfy chairs of the waiting room.

For the hundredth time, he wondered whether they were doing the right thing. It was certainly right for him. Everyone couldn't wait for the Nikiforov heir to be born, himself included. And Mila had made it clear that she wanted to be pregnant by her thirtieth birthday, with or without him. But Yuuri. Was it right for Yuuri? How would he feel about Victor having a child with another person? Even if the person was Mila.

They didn’t have long to wait before Mila’s name was called, and she stretched lazily as she stood up, saying, “All right, gentlemen. We’ll see you in a few hours.” She turned towards Victor with a knowing smirk, “Make sure you do your husbandly duties, Nikiforov. And don’t miss the cup.”

Victor grinned at her, the years had made him immune to her teasing, and he replied smoothly, “I won’t. I’ll have Yuuri with me.”

Mila began cackling loudly at his words, as she followed the nurse out of the room, while Yuuri buried his face in his hands, muttering, “Oh my god, people can hear us.”

Sara laughed lightly, and rose to follow Mila, patting Yuuri’s back in sympathy, “Don’t worry, Yuuri. We’ll be there to make sure these two don’t mess up the kid too much.”

When they had left, Victor placed his arm around Yuuri and drew him inwards, hearing a sigh of contentment as Yuuri leaned lightly into him, and they waited in comfortable silence. Victor buried his face in Yuuri's dark hair, and breathed in the scent that was still so intoxicating.

He wanted to ask Yuuri one more time whether he was sure this was truly what he wanted. But stopped himself, and pulled Yuuri closer to him.

He had asked the same question many times, and each time, Yuuri’s answer had been an unequivocal, “Yes.” But Victor never stopped searching for hidden bitterness or resentment, ever ready to give up at any sign of discontent. He found none, only a calm and quiet anticipation.

Still, Victor had been hesitant. Yuuri had accepted so many compromises without complaint, he couldn’t bear to impose yet another complication in their lives. He wanted an ideal world for Yuuri, where they could have children in both their names. He wanted Yuuri to have a rightful place.

But when Victor had mentioned it to Mila, her reply had stuck with him like a bur.

“Think of it this way, Victor. In our situation, this is the closest Yuuri will ever get to having children. And he clearly wants to.”

Her levelheaded reasoning had jolted him back into reality, making him realise that his ideal world would never materialise, and their only way forward was to make the best of what they had.

And she was right. Yuuri wanted it. Of the four of them, he had been the most involved, both emotionally and practically. He had looked up all the IVF clinics in Tokyo and accompanied Mila to as many of the appointments as he could, citing the fact that he could speak Japanese to the staff. He had researched the procedures to death, and read everything he found about the appropriate supplements to take, then made sure Victor and Mila took them religiously everyday. He had a look of constant worry on his face, as he surveyed the house for possible hazards, and made a list of things they would have to change if they succeeded.

His quiet, unassuming concern for a child who hadn’t even been conceived had finally tipped Victor from reluctance to action. Yuuri wanted this, and it was within Victor’s ability to give it to him.

Suddenly, Yuuri broke away from his arm, and exclaimed, “I forgot to check if Mila took her supplements today.”

His eyes darted towards the direction where Mila and Sara had gone, looking as though he might bolt after them to check.

But before he could move away, Victor took his hand and tugged him back into his seat, saying with a chuckle, “It's too late now, Yuuri. They’ve probably started.”

Yuuri hesitated for a moment, and relented with a sigh, “I suppose it's only one day. And I don’t have it with me anyway. Have you taken yours, Victor?”

Victor smiled at his large questioning eyes, and replied, “Yes, I have, my love. After breakfast. You put it out on the table, remember?”

Yuuri sank back into his chair with a sheepish look, “Sorry, I don't know why I'm so worried. I just don’t want anything to go wrong today.”

Victor caressed the back of Yuuri’s hand in soothing strokes, gazing fondly at the creases of concern on his face, his lips pressed together in a thin line of tension.

The last of his reluctance melted away.

Did it really matter that the world wouldn’t know who Yuuri was to the child?

To Yuuri, the child was already his. He saw it no other way. And his resolution made it easier for Victor to accept their imperfect reality.

“Mr Nikiforov?”

They turned towards the voice, and found a nurse waiting at the entrance with a clipboard in one hand, and a small container in another. Victor stood up and hurried towards her.

“Room 2 please,” said the nurse in a crisp voice, as she handed the container to Victor, “Everything you need is in there. Please return the sample to me when you are finished. The room is down here.” She gestured towards a corridor lined with two rows of identical rooms, and returned to her work station.

Victor tapped the container lightly, and turned towards Yuuri with a coy grin. What better way to make sure that he was involved in every step of the way?

“You coming?” he asked suggestively.

A furious blush spread across Yuuri’s face, as he glanced nervously around them to see if anyone was looking, before nodding shyly, and following Victor out of the waiting room.

 

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It was late at night when Anya announced her arrival.

They had been celebrating Yuuri’s birthday, and Mila was slightly tipsy from a tiny glass of wine that she’d been allowed, her raucous laughters almost shaking the house.

She’d been having contractions during the day, but they petered out after a while, and their small party had proceeded as planned, with Yuuri’s family Skyping them in the middle.

They were about to go to bed, and Mila had waddled to the kitchen for a glass of water, when they heard a loud groan that was followed by a string of expletives, and an ear-splitting, “Someone get in here!”

Sara had leapt to her feet, calling out, “Calm down, Mila. The contractions may be false labour again.”

To which, Mila had shouted curtly between pants, “ _Pretty sure_ they are not. I’m standing in a fucking _puddle_ here!”

At which point, the house exploded into frenzied activity, with Sara running to help Mila from the kitchen, while Yuuri shoved Victor out the door to start the car, before hurrying to get the hospital bag.

Soon, they were speeding off to the hospital, the roads blessedly empty in the dead of night. Sara was at the back, calmly trying to coach Mila with her breathing through each new contraction, while Yuuri kept track of how far apart they were.

Victor could hear his heart thumping loudly in his chest, his fingers icy cold as they clutched the steering wheel, trying hard to focus on the road. But all that his mind could think of was, “It's happening. It's happening.”

Their frantic arrival at the hospital was followed by hours and hours of waiting through the night, Mila’s contractions steadily becoming more frequent and more intense. A nurse came in to check on her regularly, until finally announcing that Mila was ready for the third stage. As her agonised screams became louder, her curses more colourful, Victor and Yuuri were kicked out of the room to prevent them from overcrowding the mother.

They sat in restlessness just outside the labour room, their hands clenched tightly together as they waited for news. The waiting seemed to go on for an age, and they couldn’t tell how much time had passed, their ears primed to the slightest sound.

Suddenly, Sara burst into the hallway and exclaimed, “She’s here!” Fresh tears flowing down her face, “She’s absolutely gorgeous.”

Victor let out a shuddering sigh of relief and Yuuri’s eyes were glazed over in disbelief. They both resisted the strong urge to rush in and see her. Mila was unlikely to be ready for visitors. Instead, they clung to each other in a desperately happy embrace, and began making calls to everyone who was waiting eagerly on all sides of the world.  

When the calls were complete, they made their way to the postpartum room where Mila had been transferred, hearts thumping in unison at the thought of seeing the new arrival. After a cursory knock, they pushed open the door silently and peered into the room.

Mila was sitting up in bed, a small bundle tucked protectively close to her body that squirmed at random intervals. She could barely keep her eyes open, and was nodding off to sleep with her mouth hanging slightly open, her dishevelled hair sticking out in odd places. Sara was hovering over her, giving her a light kiss on the forehead, as she whispered, “Well done, mama.” Before gently removing the bundle of blankets from Mila’s limp arms, and brought it over to them.

Victor could feel a growing lump in his throat at the first sight of his daughter.

Anna Viktorovna Nikiforova.

Her eyes were wide open and searching, the same turquoise sheen he had seen many times in the mirror. Her hair came in small whorls of light auburn, a smidge brighter than Mila’s. There was a sharpness in her nose that reminded Victor of somebody, but he couldn’t quite place his finger on it.

She was perfect. Absolutely beautiful and perfect.

Yuuri came up beside him, his gaze transfixed. He reached tentatively to stroke her outstretched hand, and breathed in amazement when her fingers closed around his pinky, holding on with surprising strength. Victor met the wonder in Yuuri’s shimmering eyes, knowing that his own were on the brink of tears as well.

Nothing else seemed to matter but the trusting grip of those impossibly tiny fingers, as though the world had melted away around them, and they were encased in an eternal moment of indescribable joy.

 

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The peace of their first night had been short lived. Soon, a steady stream of visitors began arriving in the hospital.

Yuuri’s family were the first to welcome the new addition, having closed the inn for a few days to make the trip. Victor nearly squealed with joy when Hiroko showered them with yet another load of old baby stuff they could use, all carefully wrapped in tissue paper. Minako couldn’t make the trip with the Katsukis, but had sent along a tiny pair of soft, beige ballet shoes, which made Victor chuckle at the not-so-subtle hint of what she expected Anya’s upbringing to include.

On the last day of their visit, he caught a teary smile on Mari’s face, as she fixed a small bracelet with an intricate charm around Anya’s wrist, explaining, “For happiness. Yuuri has one too,” before reluctantly tearing herself away from the sleeping newborn.

Mila’s parents, on the other hand, had been an entirely different matter. Their presence had made everyone politely nervous, and slightly on edge. Even Anya seemed a little more restless than usual. Victor had to make sure Sara was as far away as possible when they appeared. Her usual composure tended to evaporate the instant she saw them, and she had no problems airing exactly what she thought of them. But a hospital in Tokyo was most probably not an appropriate setting for another showdown.  

Fortunately for everyone, Yakov had been close at their heels, which usually guaranteed their civil behavior. He’d caught the first possible flight from New York, and came laden with gifts from those who couldn’t make the trip. He himself went slightly overboard with his presents, turning heads as he appeared at the hospital with a gigantic Victorian dollhouse, complete with servants’ quarters.

Though the burden of actually lugging the gifts around fell to the sullen Yurio, now nearly twenty, who’d been surprisingly keen to come along. His stolid expression rapidly fell apart when he met little Anya, having no qualms about pulling faces for her amusement. Or allowing his blunt protectiveness to shine through when he openly, almost defensively, voiced a question that had been troubling Victor. “What'll she call the katsudon?”

But Yuuri had overheard the question as he walked into the room, and replied with a warm smile, “I do have a name she can use, Yurio. Or else, she can use her favourite food, like you.”

Not that Yurio’s little confrontation could dampen Victor’s spirits. He felt as though he had enough energy to deal with a thousand more snarky remarks, and his joy was infectious. No one could be around him for long without cracking a smile or bursting into laughter, even the stately matron who governed their ward.

He could barely remember what his office looked like, his days now consumed by this new creature. He was there first thing in the morning, not wanting to miss a minute of the bright searching eyes, and was smitten even by the simplest things, like the first time he saw her sneeze.

Yuuri rushed to the hospital after work everyday, his rigid schedule not permitting his constant presence. But Victor noticed he had a lingering hesitance at picking her up, always stopping himself with a tentative glance at Mila, even though every line on his face said that he wanted to. Thankfully, Mila noticed it as well, and had dealt with the issue head-on in a serious voice, saying “Yuuri, you don’t need my permission. Anya’s your child too.”

On their last day in the hospital, after a week of mandatory bedrest, they received the most unexpected visitor yet.

Yurio had barged into the room and announced, “Oi Victor, your father’s here.”

Victor leapt to his feet instantly, and was out of the room, before remembering to ask, “Where is he?”

“Looking at Annoushka,” Yurio called out from behind the door.

Victor hurried to the nursery, and stopped abruptly in his tracks when he found his father.

He chuckled inwardly at the sight of dignified Vladimir Nikiforov leaning comically against the window pane, his forehead leaving an imprint on the clean glass. His face was scrunched in concentration as he tried to identify his granddaughter from the rows of newborns.

“Father,” he called out, and Vladimir pulled his eyes away from his search to give Victor a nod of acknowledgment.

“Have you found her yet?” asked Victor in a light tone, his stellar mood unaffected by his father’s somber presence.

“I think I have,” replied Vladimir evenly, his gaze returning to the colourful bundles behind the glass, “Is she the third from the right, on the second row?”

Victor beamed at his father, “What gave her away?”

“Her hair, of course. The color is unmistakable.” said Vladimir distractedly, “And she seems to have inherited her grandmother’s nose.”

Victor froze at the remark about his mother, caught off guard by how casually it had been uttered, without the usual pain that surfaced when his father touched on her memory. He studied his father briefly, and said with careful nonchalance, “I thought it looked familiar.”

After a slight pause, his father straightened himself up and asked, “How is Mila?”

“She’s doing very well,” replied Victor dutifully, “We’re getting her ready to go home today.”

Vladimir nodded in response, then he cleared his throat with a cough before asking in an uncertain tone, “And Katsuki Yuuri. How is he dealing with this?”

“Yuuri?” repeated Victor in surprise, “He _adores_ Anya. He can’t wait to have her home.”

Again, Vladimir nodded in response, a pensive look on his face, and Victor waited wordlessly beside him, wondering where this strange mood had come from.

“Anyway, Victor, I didn’t come just to see the child,” said his father suddenly, reverting to his usual businesslike manner, “I wanted to discuss something with you in person.”

Victor frowned slightly, his recent memory shedding no light on anything else sufficiently important to warrant this trip, other than the birth of his first granddaughter.

“I believe it is time for the company to change hands,” continued Vladimir, “I propose that we bring forward the handover. We should be ready in two years if we set things in motion now.”

Victor stared blankly at his father, his words refusing to sink in.

“Two years? From now?”

“Yes, we’ll need to start by replacing some of the senior management with your people. I trust you have candidates?”

Victor nodded speechlessly, there were a few people lined up for the job. But in two years? Where was this coming from? The handover wasn’t supposed to happen for many, many more years, maybe decades.

“And if we do go ahead,” continued Vladimir, “I believe it would be best if you moved back to the manor when the time comes. You’ll need the space, so I’ll find suitable lodgings elsewhere, and-”

“But, father,” blurted Victor, his voice finally returning, “Wha- why now? Why so soon?”

Vladimir gave him a thoughtful look, a slight crease forming between his brows, and he glanced briefly at Anya’s sleeping form, before replying curtly, “I have my reasons.”

Victor felt his jubilant mood being quashed under the solemn eyes, suddenly burdened by his father’s intentions, and deeply troubled by why he had chosen this very day to unleash a plan that was supposed to lay dormant for a good long while.

After a strained silence, he said stiffly, “I will need some time to consider this.”

But his terseness seemed to go unnoticed, as Vladimir calmly replied, “Of course, you must discuss this with your family. But I have considered this matter deeply, and I believe in time you will find that this is right.”

The words were so simple. But they stirred up a violent surge of emotions at the memories of their long struggles, as Victor pushed against Vladimir’s attempts to impose his own will. The self-assuredness of his voice brought back the headstrong clashes they'd had over how the company should be run and how Victor should live his life. And just when Victor thought he’d done enough to show that he was capable of making his own decisions, or at least to have a say in it, the same pattern repeated itself.

Victor stared mutely at his father, desperately pushing through his anger and confusion, trying to find the words to demand an explanation, or at least a discussion on equal standing.

But their silence was broken by Yakov’s voice coming from down the hall, and Vladimir quickly added.

“I will pay you a visit in another two days, and we can talk details then.” But before he made his way down the hall to meet Yakov, Vladimir laid a firm hand on Victor’s shoulder, and said in a voice that was almost quivering with pride, “Congratulations, Vitya. You have a beautiful daughter.”

At his father’s words, a surge of happiness resurfaced in his heart to join the fray of emotions. He wanted to yell at his father for suddenly overturning their lives, to shake him until they received an explanation, but above it all Victor was inexplicably happy that his father was fond of Anya.

 

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Later that evening, the four of them gathered in the smaller sitting room at home, their feet tucked warmly underneath the soft blanket of the _kotatsu_ table, each holding a steaming mug of tea in their hands. Anya was dozing in a Moses basket beside them, swaddled in a baby blue blanket with tiny animals that used to be Yuuri’s, while the two poodles stood guard beside her.

Victor had given them a detailed account of his father’s proposal, and was now studying them closely as they mulled over his words in silence.

Mila was the first to speak, her voice laced with skepticism, “Why now? Why in two years?”

Victor shrugged. She knew as much as he did.

“Maybe he wants to keep tabs on us?” Mila said suspiciously.

Victor frowned, and shook his head. “He wouldn’t offer to move out if that’s the case.”

“Maybe he’s dying?” ventured Sara, “You see that a lot in movies.”

A chill ran through Victor’s spine as he considered the possibility, and shook his head again, “No, Yakov would have said something.”

“Maybe the company’s failing?” suggested Mila in a conspiratorial whisper, “Maybe there’re anomalies in the pension fund, and he wants out?”

Victor rolled his eyes at her mocking. She knew as well as he did that the company was in an excellent place. Their five years of hard work had paid off, and all three markets were stable and flourishing, so much so that his work in Tokyo was started to feel a little boring, or repetitive, or at least, lacking in the challenges of new, uncharted territory. It’s the kind of work that Jason and Georgi liked, but not him. If he was honest with himself, he was tempted to rush the takeover for this reason alone, if not for the fact that they’d have to uproot their entire life here, which was a major undertaking in itself, even without a young child. And also, he needed to know his father’s intentions behind it.

“I think it’s because of Anya,” said Yuuri quietly, and Victor caught his eye. He saw a certainty in Yuuri’s expression that reaffirmed his own gut feeling. That same suspicion had been niggling the back of his mind ever since his father had left the hospital.

It had to be because of Anya, the timing was too serendipitous, but he couldn’t place his finger on why.

He barely registered the back and forth between Mila and Sara, as they debated over whether Yuuri’s suggestion was true. Victor knew it was.  

In any case, his instinct was also telling him that his father was right. Grudgingly, he had to admit that in pure business terms, it was a good time for the takeover. The current upward trajectory of their boom should carry on for a few more years. So, what better time to absorb the shock of a change in leadership that was bound to happen anyway. They couldn’t be sure of what would happen in another five, ten years.

Plus, the senior management were all quite satisfied with his recent performance, which made it much easier for Victor to bring in his own candidates to replace some of them who were long overdue for retirement. This process was always tricky because any changes in the senior management would require the approval from at least two-thirds of the existing members. The old warhorses were less likely to resist when things were smooth sailing.

Actually, now that he thought of it, nearly half of them could retire, in theory. Not Yakov of course, but if he could have half of the seniors on his side... Just imagine the things he could do! They could just about push through the handover as long as there were no major disasters the old warhorses could blame him for.

The timing was golden actually. And it would be easier to uproot their lives when Anya was still a toddler.

He allowed his eyes to wander across the room, glancing briefly to check on Anya, before vaguely listening to the quick-fire exchange between Mila and Sara. They didn't state it explicitly, but he could tell from their excited tone that they wanted to go back to New York. They had, after all, moved to Tokyo because of him and Yuuri.

Victor returned his gaze to Yuuri and realized that Yuuri had been observing him closely the whole time.

He reached his hand across the table and wove their fingers together, asking in a soft, worried voice, “What would you do if we went back?”

Yuuri smiled tenderly at him and replied, “Vicchan, you forget that I’m no longer the struggling student you met. I will not need to give up anything if we move. I have options now.”

Victor gave a small chuckle. True.

Katsuki Yuuri, first soloist, rising star of the Tokyo Ballet, with rumors of becoming principal in a few years. Dance companies should be scrambling to hire him if they were smart.

“But do you want to leave?” he asked carefully.

A thoughtful expression appeared on Yuuri’s face, and his eyes trailed out of the cosy room.

Victor followed his gaze, past the _shōji_ screens that were pushed open to reveal smooth wooden floors, leading to a pair of simple glass doors. And beyond them, the peaceful garden swirled in the misty fog of early winter, dotted with stone lanterns that cast an almost eerie glow in evening light.

How many times had they sat here like this, holding hands across the table, with steaming mugs of tea, watching the rain outside, or the wind rustling through the ornamental trees. Sheltered and enclosed from the world in their tranquil sanctuary.

Was it time to leave it behind?

After a wistful pause, Yuuri returned his gaze to Victor, and said resolutely, “I will be sad to leave. But we came here for me. And if you think it’s time, then we’ll go back for you.” His grip tightened over Victor's hand, as he added, “Let me do this for you, Victor.”

Victor stared mutely at him, then realised that Mila and Sara had stopped their discussions, and were waiting intently for him to respond.

“I think it’s time,” he said with finality, and Yuuri nodded with an encouraging smile.

Victor could feel his pulse racing at the thought of the upcoming upheaval in their lives, recalling the distant memories of their past struggles, remembering the heartache as they fought to stay together. With that, came a fear that he may need to choose between Yuuri and the company again, that his father may have hidden motives behind his sudden move, or worse yet, that his father would involve Anya in any of this.

But then, he recalled, that even amidst the chaos, they’d once managed to carve out their own slice of heaven in New York. A secret hiding place littered with treasured moments of happiness. Nothing much would have to change, they could have it again. The only real difference this time would be the tiny bundle of joy, her hands twitching in miniscule mittens as she slept, who’ll be coming along for the ride. She’ll be no trouble, surely?

A small smile appeared on his lips.

It seems they had made their decision.

 

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Despite months of planning and weeks of preparation, what they hadn’t banked on was for the little bundle of joy to be even more of a roller coaster than their impending move to New York.

Little Anya, three months old, and at the height of colic, ruled them all with a rod of iron.

Even with the four of them pitching in, Anya managed to turn their lives inside out and upside down, unrecognisable beyond measure. They slept when she slept, and ate when she ate, the sounds of her crying an oppressive presence in the house from sundown to bedtime, enough to drive the most loving of parents up the wall.

And the colic was especially bad today.

Victor’s attempts to calm her down had been futile, and she had been crying for hours. They had tried everything, absolutely everything. Fed her, burped her, sang to her, changed her, bathed her, walked around the house in a rhythmic bounce. But none of them worked for long, and the high-pitch shrieks quickly returned.

As far as they knew, there was only one surefire way to settle her down that didn’t involve waiting for her to stop from sheer exhaustion. And that particular solution was still not back from his evening performance.

Mila and Sara had surrendered an hour ago, nearly collapsing from tiredness, since it had been their turn to have Anya in their room last night, and Victor was left to deal with her alone. His ears were ringing with her piercing cries, and his heart was broken at how anguished they sounded, while he could only look on helplessly.

In the end, he found himself slumped on the sofa in the large living room, clutching the wailing baby to his chest, on the verge of tears himself, as he pleaded,

“Annoushka, please. Please just tell me what you want.”

Suddenly, he heard the click of the front door being unlocked and someone attempting to open it as soundlessly as they could.

Victor felt an instant surge of relief and called out in a despairing voice, “Yuuri!!”

Yuuri’s face appeared at the doorway of the living room, and when he caught sight of the wretched state the two of them were in, he made a sympathetic noise,

“Oh dear, how long has she been like this?”

Victor shook his head wearily with his eyes closed, “I don’t know. I lost track of time.”

He heard Yuuri padding softly towards them, and felt Anya being lifted from his chest. By some miracle, her crying gradually died down as Yuuri cradled her close to him and made soft shushing noises. Soon, he disappeared into their room, and returned shortly after without her.

Victor lifted a bleary eyelid when he felt a slight dip in the cushion next to him, “Is she asleep?”

Yuuri smiled at him and nodded.

“How do you _do_ that?” groaned Victor, as he leaned against Yuuri’s shoulder and nuzzled against his neck, feeling himself drift between sleep and wakefulness.

“Not sure,” said Yuuri with an apologetic look, “Maybe I smell like her blanket?”

“That’s so unfair,” mumbled Victor indignantly, “We could’ve used one of my old blankets. How are we going to survive next week when you’re on tour?”

“You’ll do fine, Vicchan,” replied Yuuri in a soothing voice, wrapping his arm around Victor’s shoulder, “This was just a bad day.”

“We could come with you,” he heard himself say, and Yuuri laughed softly.

The last thought to pass through Victor's mind as he slipped into his dreams was that Anya was onto something, it did feel incredibly safe and comfortable having Yuuri’s arms around him.

 

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When Anya was six months old, they began settling into a more manageable routine. Her colic had ceased, and she could sit up, her bright eyes more alert to her surroundings.

They devised a rota for their sanity’s sake. Each of them taking full charge of two days a week. Except Yuuri, whose harsh schedule meant that he only had one day off. But he made up for it in the hours after work, rushing home as early as he could to spend time with her, showing no sign of fatigue, even after a day of gruelling rehearsals.

But Victor could see he still felt bad about missing out, and so with the warmer weather of late spring, and Victor’s growing confidence in bringing Anya outdoors, they began stopping by the Bunka Kaikan where Yuuri worked, and had lunch dates under the leafy canopy of the surrounding park.

Anya was bouncing happily in her carrier, strapped to the front of Victor’s chest, and babbled in excitement when she saw Yuuri approaching them from the large stone building ahead.

Victor laughed helplessly at their extended greeting, acting as though they hadn’t seen each other for years, not a few hours. They sauntered to their usual spot by the lake, and spread out the picnic blanket, before releasing Anya to roam freely. It was so much easier to deal with her now that the initial shock of parenting had worn off.

They chatted lightly about their day, occasionally reaching over to prevent Anya from venturing too far, or eating whatever she found in the grass.

Between bites of their own food, Yuuri began feeding her bits of banana, making no attempt to clean her up as she mashed them messily between her gums and a solitary tooth. After a while, Victor started noticing that Yuuri was slyly slipping in the odd cube of mushy apple that Anya accepted without complaint, and immediately called them out.

“Hey! She spat out that apple this morning.”

Yuuri looked at him in surprise, “But she likes apple.”

“Does she?” he asked incredulously.

“Maybe...the apple this morning was bad?” Yuuri suggested with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s the _same_ apple,” he exclaimed, “She eats everything you give her!”

“Maybe she trusts what I give her,” said Yuuri teasingly.

“Maybe you should feed her mushy peas,” he huffed in mock indignation, “She hates mushy peas. It’ll make it fairer for me.”

Yuuri grinned at him and retorted, “Maybe she’ll start liking mushy peas.”

Victor laughed heartily at his reply, which made Anya cackle along in glee, excited that people around her were being happy, and Yuuri finally moved to mop up the mess on her face.

“Oh yes, I have news on the takeover,” said Victor suddenly, “The old man’s been hard at work. He’s pushed through another two candidates, so that makes four out of twenty-four on the senior management. In just six months!”

“Isn’t that a little too quick?” remarked Yuuri in surprise.

“Remarkably so,” replied Victor with a nod, deeply impressed by his father’s success, “All of them had unanimous support too. Well…” he paused with a helpless grin, “All except Chris. He’s despicable. Barely squeaked through, I heard.”

Yuuri chuckled in amusement at that, causing Anya’s tittering laugh to become more spirited, and she began clapping her hands in excitement.

“So…” Victor began hesitantly, trying not to be distracted by Anya’s loud squealing, as Yuuri leaned over to begin a tickle attack, “It seems that we’ll be moving ahead. Are you ok with this?”

Yuuri stopped his attack and glanced chidingly at Victor. “I thought we’d decided on this, Victor.” And Victor hung his head sheepishly, it wasn’t as if he could help feeling bad that he was forcing this on Yuuri.

Yuuri straightened himself up, and said with a warm smile, “Besides, I have good news too. I heard back from Lilia today. She said one of the instructors in Juilliard is thinking of taking a sabbatical next year. So, she’s recommended me as a temporary substitute.”

Victor sat up in excitement, as he exclaimed, “That’s great, Yuuri!”

“And if I don’t get that, Lilia is happy to let me teach at her studio in the meantime,” continued Yuuri, “And I’ve expressed my interest to the New York City Ballet. So...”

Victor gazed fondly at the spreading blush on Yuuri’s face, brought on by having to brag slightly about his future prospects. It was an endearing attempt to reassure Victor that the impending move was not harming his career in any way.

Victor reached over and gently caressed his cheeks. “Thank you,” he said softly, before leaning in to place a tender kiss on Yuuri’s lips. “It does make it easier for me.”

Clearly unhappy at being ignored, Anya squeezed between them and plonked herself firmly on Yuuri’s lap, making irate noises as she did so.

Yuuri’s merry laughter rang across the park, and Victor beamed at him, his hand lingering on the side of Yuuri’s smiling face.

They made a little picture of utopia, the three of them sitting under the mottled patterns of sunlight streaming through the leaves. Sounds of splashes coming from the lake as flocks of waterbirds landed on its surface, mingled with the occasional crunch of footsteps on gravel from passers-by. Anya settled on Yuuri like an throne, Yuuri impossibly content at her mere proximity, and Victor hovering so close to them, feeling like his heart could hold no more happiness.

But amid the peaceful joy of their shared moment, a sudden thought struck him, casting a shadow over their sunny day.

Would they be able to do this in New York? Something as simple as this, having lunch together in a park.

Here, in Tokyo, they were both relative unknowns who could go unnoticed in a sea of people. Even sitting so openly here, the only risk was of Yuuri being seen by one of his fellow dancers, out for some fresh air. But Victor was nowhere near well-known enough for any of them to know who he was, or what he did.

But in New York, Victor was sufficiently known to warrant some attention. And his place as the head of the company would cast an even greater spotlight on his private life. They would have to take precautions when out in public together like this. Even within the Nikiforov mansion itself, they would be restricted by the constant presence of the house staff, who were all bound by strict non-disclosures, but that didn't stop rumors from spreading eventually. It only gave them legal recourse when things had already gone wrong.

Then, another troubling thought began to rear its ugly head.

How frequently could Yuuri be seen with Anya before questions were raised? Even here in Tokyo, but much more so in New York, they couldn’t simply pass off Yuuri as the doting family friend for long. He and Anya were already so attached to each other, it was uncanny how they fitted so naturally together. How would they explain who Yuuri was?

But perhaps more importantly, he was confronted with a question that made his heart grow heavy, how would he explain to Anya who their beloved Yuuri was?

He pushed down the creeping dread that was threatening to surface, taking great care not to let his worries show on his face, almost wishing for the constant state of sleep deprivation and exhaustion of the past few months, when he didn’t have the luxury to think.

They put away the remnants of their lunch, and tried to strap Anya back into her carrier amidst her usual protests. Yuuri was still untouched by these unpleasant matters, still carefree and unconcerned in his open devotion, gently but firmly coaxing Anya to stay still as he did up the clasps of the shoulder straps. The sight brought a tender smile to Victor’s face. He wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible, to keep them safe and sheltered in a warm cocoon of joy.

He felt his mind whirring to life, slowly taking apart the situation, trying to find a solution, a way out that didn't threaten to upset everything they'd built so far.

We’ll find a way, he thought silently, holding Yuuri close to him before he returned to work.

We always have.

 

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On Anya’s first birthday, they had a small celebration, just the four of them.

The Christmas tree was already glittering in the background, a dominating presence in the otherwise understated house, twinkling with lights and tinsel, its branches heavy with shimmering baubles, a bright star teetering at the top.

Victor had been over-excited by the prospect of spending Christmas at home this year, instead of the Nikiforov mansion with Mila, and so the tree had been put up two months in advance, with Anya’s haphazard help.

The birthday party was a joint one with Yuuri’s, since theirs were only a day apart. But there was no doubt as to who the star was, surrounded by a pile of presents, seeming more interested in tearing up the wrapping paper than looking at its contents.  

Victor was having the time of his life. They were trying their best to interest Anya in the presents they bought instead of the boxes they came in, waving them in front of her as they were revealed, while she surveyed them skeptically. They even had a mini competition going, to see who gave the most presents that she acknowledged.

“And here’s the last present from, Papa,” proclaimed Victor in a sunny voice, “Look! It’s a poodle!”

Anya reached a tentative hand towards the toy and dragged it towards her, crushing it in a tight hug as she gave a toothy grin, causing Victor pump his fist in the air, triumphant.

“And look here,” exclaimed Mila, “Anya has a baby cooking set! And a baby tool set!” She continued in a normal voice, “You know, so you can choose what you like.”

But Anya had been indifferent to both.

“And this last one that seems _very_ educational,” Victor remarked cheerfully, “So, it's probably from Yuuri-”

“Yuu-li.”

A stunned silence fell across the room, and they froze in mid-action.

“Did she say something?” asked Sara, her eyes wide in astonishment.

“I think she did,” replied Victor incredulously.

“Annoushka sweetheart,” said Mila, bending down to face her directly, “Did you say something?”

Anya’s searching eyes scanned the room, and they waited with bated breath. Then, she beamed directly at Yuuri.

“Yuu-li.” She repeated in an adorable lisp.

“Oh my goodness,” gasped Sara, “Was that her first word?”

“I think it is!” exclaimed Victor, crawling forward to join Mila.

“Sweetie, now say Mama. Ma-Ma,” urged Mila.

“Or Papa!” added Victor excitedly.

“Yuu-Li.” She repeated in an insistent voice, as if angry that they were asking her to say something else.

“I don’t believe this,” exclaimed Mila, “I _do not_ believe this. I’ve been feeding you from my boobs!”

Sara leaned over to pat Mila on the head, as she said with a laugh, “To be fair, Mila. You’ve been pumping your boobs. We’ve all been feeding her. So, it’s really a one in four thing.”

“It's not a one in four thing. I'm a victim of overt Yuuri favoritism,” huffed Mila in mock indignation.

Victor laughed at her dramatics, and replied with a wink, “Like father, like daughter.”

Having decided the parade of presents was over, Anya dragged her new toy poodle and tottered over to where Yuuri was sitting underneath the Christmas tree, plonking herself down on her usual spot. Yuuri smiled tenderly at her, and started chatting in lilting Japanese, as she listened with a distant look on her face, nodding at random intervals, as if she understood his words.

Yuuri had started doing that recently, saying it didn’t hurt to try teaching her another language. They had all assumed Anya would be bilingual, growing up in Tokyo. But this wasn’t the case anymore, and he suspected Yuuri felt it was his duty to give her something that she would be missing out.

From Victor’s novice ears, he could pick up bits of a story about a brave poodle, and chuckled to himself. He made his way towards them, and sat down beside them.

“You alright?” he asked Yuuri.

“Hmm?” responded Yuuri, stopping his story.

“You seem a bit distant.”

“Sorry,” replied Yuuri guiltily, “I was just thinking this will be Anya’s first and last birthday here.”

“Yeah,” Victor agreed wistfully, and he gazed up at the decorations of the Christmas tree, “Actually, this will be my first and last birthday here too.”

Yuuri nodded, and looked down to see Anya yawning sleepily in his lap. Then, his lips parted slightly, looking as though he wanted to say something, but couldn’t quite form the words.

Victor waited wordlessly, and slipped his hand into Yuuri’s to give him a reassuring squeeze.

After a brief silence, Yuuri began slowly, “When I brought Anya to the musical playgroup today, one of the teachers asked if Anya’s mother was a foreigner, because she looked nothing like me.”

Anya stirred in his lap, and Yuuri laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“What did you say?” asked Victor cautiously, not liking the direction of the conversation.

“I said yes. Then, she started to ask how we met, but someone interrupted her. So, I didn’t have to say anything,” Yuuri paused slightly to Victor a worried glance, before adding, “I don’t think Anya understood any of it, but…” His voice trailed off with a troubled look, the unspoken words settling like a heavy weight on Victor’s chest. But what would they do when she did?

Victor had no answer to that, and they sat in uneasy silence, their hands clasped tightly together.

After a while, Yuuri said haltingly, “Vicchan, when you move to New York, maybe I should remain here for a while longer.”

Victor’s grip tightened painfully over Yuuri’s hand, and he asked in a tense voice, “What do you mean, Yuuri?”

Yuuri hesitated, his gaze still fixed on the dozing child before him, and said, “It'll make it easier for Anya. I can stay here while you settle in, and visit when I'm off season. Then, maybe we can see in a few years…”

“This doesn't make sense, Yuuri,” Victor refuted in distress, “How can you say it'll make it easier for her? She needs you there.”

“It will make it easier if I stay away,” replied Yuuri firmly,  “If I'm not around, she won't be asked questions about me. And we won't need to tell her anything. Not until she's much older. We cannot ask her to keep this secret for us, Victor.”

“And you cannot ask her to go through the trauma of losing someone important in her life,” Victor replied, equally adamant, “She'll be too young to understand if you disappear suddenly.”

“But she won't remember much of it,” Yuuri said with a pained look, “Not until she turns two. And I won't be there by then.”

At his words, a chill ran down the length of Victor’s spine, as a growing horror crept into his mind.

Was this what his father intended? To rush the move in two years, to already have eight of Victor’s candidates in the senior management. Just so Yuuri would have the chance to break away without doing any lasting damage to his granddaughter?

Could this possibly be the ulterior motive behind his father's actions?

Was Vladimir Nikiforov really so callous?

Victor didn’t know anymore. He never knew what his father was thinking. But why else would he spring this whole thing on them at this precise moment in time?

“No,” Victor replied in a shaking voice, “No, whatever you’re thinking. We cannot do this, Yuuri.”

“But haven't we tried to think of a way?” Yuuri pressed on, “None of us came up with anything. Even Sara was suggesting she should move out.”

“And Mila put her foot down,” retaliated Victor, “This cannot be the right thing to do, Yuuri. This is not the solution.”

“Then, what is the solution, Victor?” Yuuri demanded almost fiercely.

Victor almost blurted out the words, but caught them in mid-air, as he stared mutely at Yuuri with his mouth half-opened.

There was a solution. A very simple one actually. He’d spent months turning it over in his mind, wondering if he could pull it off.

But he knew from the past that any whiff of risking his career would only make Yuuri more determined, and he shuddered at the memory of how close they'd come to Yuuri giving up his dreams, as if his happiness should be the first to be disregarded, when it was always the foremost in Victor's mind.

He swallowed his words, and replied softly,

“There may be a solution. I'm still working on it.”

Yuuri didn’t seem convinced, his frown deepening as his lips were pressed together in a thin line of worry. Victor could almost see him coming to a decision on his own. But before he could speak again, Victor pressed on urgently,

“You cannot do this to me again, Yuuri. You cannot do this to _us_.”

He moved to kneel in front of Yuuri, and lifted his hand to cradle the side of Yuuri’s face, forcing every ounce of his desperation into his voice.

“You cannot keep thinking that everything will be fine as long as you give up what you want, or take yourself out of the picture.  Like it wouldn’t matter to us if you’re there or not. Because it does. And I guarantee you that Anya _will_ remember the day we leave without you.”

He met Yuuri's eyes with equal stubbornness, and said firmly,

“So, you _will_ come with us, Katsuki Yuuri. And whatever happens, we’ll find a way. I promise you.”

A look of hesitation appeared, as the inner struggle of emotions played out across Yuuri’s face. They remained in stretched silence. Yuuri’s searching eyes gazed steadily at Victor, then dropped down to Anya’s peaceful expression, with wispy auburn hair sticking to odd places on her face, her mouth hanging open as she slept.

Victor felt his breath return when Yuuri looked up at him again, and nodded wordlessly, and Victor pulled him into a crushing embrace, silent tears of relief streaming down his face.

 

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When Anya was twenty months old, they uprooted their entire life in Tokyo and moved across the world.

Their belongings had arrived before them, and the house staff were swarming around the mountain of boxes like frantic bees, busily unpacking their contents and studying the inventories to see where each item should go in the maze of rooms.

 _Most_ items, Victor corrected himself with a smile. Yuuri had been mortified at the thought of someone unpacking his crummy practice clothes, or worse, his _delicates_ , and had stuffed everything in his checked luggage that he guarded closely when they arrived.

As promised, his father had moved to nearby lodgings, and had only dropped by once for dinner so far, leaving Victor mostly free to run the house as he pleased. Though things were a lot more complicated than he’d anticipated.

It was all very well saying that they’d cope with things as they arose, in pure theoretical terms, when they were an ocean away. The practice much knottier, and far less manageable than they could imagine.

They’d only been here for three days, but he was sure that rumours were already spreading like wildfire among the staff, who thrived on gossip about their employers. The sleeping arrangements alone could fuel them for a month. Victor caught some of them tittering excitedly over the charts for the room assignments, and then hastily resuming their work when they realized Victor was nearby.

No one had questioned his orders to move Yuuri’s things to the room adjoining his. Or for Mila’s to be moved to the opposite side of the mansion. But there had been curious, knowing looks everywhere they went.

He had grown used to living his life in fiercely guarded privacy. To have it thrown into the spotlight, open to the scrutiny of strangers he barely knew, was extremely disquieting. And some of them had been less than courteous to Yuuri, in little ways that were hard to describe.

And then there was the troublesome nanny. None of them had wanted her, but she’d already been hired when they arrived, and had imposed her authority over Anya’s care with little regard for anyone else’s opinions.

Victor could sense that the others were also affected by the sudden change in their lives. Yuuri had withdrawn into bouts of tense silence, always carefully watching his every move. Mila had begun snapping at the smallest of things, her patience stretched to breaking point. And Sara was being uncharacteristically absent-minded, distracted by the constant presence of people around her.

The only person who remained unaffected was Anya, and she couldn’t be more ecstatic. She was still feeding off the excess energy, pent up during their long flight, and was careening through the mansion with wildly unsteady steps, her excited squeals resounding through the cavernous building, drawing smiles from everyone she passed. Yuuri was busy trying to keep up with her, carefully guiding her away from potential hazards, which essentially lurked in every corner of the old building.

Victor listened with a smile to her delighted babbling, as he looked through a box filled with random documents on the second floor, glad that at least one of them was enjoying themselves. He was poring over the preliminary plans for the company's upcoming handover ceremony, when he heard a small cough behind him, and whipped around to find the butler standing by politely with a piece of paper.

“Excuse me, Sir,” said the butler crisply, “But since it is five months to Christmas, we need to place an order for a tree. Do you have any requests, Sir?”

Victor stared at him blankly. Christmas? That was the furthest thing from his mind. But he supposed it was quite a large tree.

“Erm...Please continue whatever order my father used to place,” Victor replied awkwardly, “Until further notice.”

“Very well, Sir,” replied the butler with a small nod, and disappeared down the stairs.

Victor peered cautiously past the banister, down to the spot where the Christmas tree usually stood, and caught sight of Yuuri running after Anya. He suddenly wished the butler hadn’t mentioned the tree, because it reminded him of the fact that Yuuri couldn’t be present at the Christmas party. Or any other party, for that matter.

Victor frowned at the thought of what Yuuri was supposed to do during those times. Hide in his room, make no noise and pretended he didn’t exist? It was a ridiculous idea. Besides, the first person Anya would look for during any party would be Yuuri. She always did that when there were crowds of strangers, and no doubt start asking for him when she couldn’t find him.

He leaned heavily against the banister and shook his head. Now that they were actually here, he knew that he couldn’t delay his plan for much longer, not if they wanted to shelter Anya from their unsavoury reality. The only problem would be convincing Yuuri to agree to it.

The risks to himself were...acceptable, but it was impossible to determine what ramifications it would have on the company. He initially wanted to force through more of his people as seniors to secure the two-thirds support he needed before the official handover. But some of them were not quite ready, and there was no time for that now. Nonetheless, he could still get a shaky two-thirds with the help of a few warhorses. And his father.

That was where the plan buckled. Victor still didn’t know his father’s true intentions, and didn’t know whether he could count on Vladimir’s support when the time came.

All of a sudden, he heard a loud, “EXCUSE ME?” from the salon below, and hurried down the stairs.

Mila’s eyes were lit in anger, burning holes into a middle-aged woman who should’ve backed down very early on, but was foolishly standing her ground. Anya was hiding behind Yuuri, and Yuuri’s face was a deep scarlet in a mixture of suppressed anger and humiliation.

“I was just saying, Madam, that the young man should not be playing with your daughter without my permission. You hired me to care for her, and it is my responsibility to monitor who comes into contact with her.”

“Why would Yuuri need your permission? _I_ gave him permission and he clearly knows her very well,” Mila retorted loudly.

“But _I_ do not know him and-”

“You know what,” snapped Mila, cutting the nanny short, “I’m done with this. You’re dismissed. Get out.”

As the nanny stormed out of the mansion, Mila barked at the watching staff who were frozen in place around the scene, “Anyone _else_ wants to tell me what to do?” And they scattered into frantic action.

Victor hurried down the remaining steps towards Yuuri. Anya was clinging tightly onto his shirt, more distressed that Yuuri was upset than over the argument.

Victor gently lifted Yuuri’s chin to meet his eyes, but Yuuri looked away.

“I’m fine,” he said shakily, and turned his attention to Anya’s gentle tugging on his shirt.

There was an urgent whisper in his ear, and he forced a bright smile as he replied, “I’m not sad, Annoushka. And the mean lady is gone now. Shall we go upstairs?”

Anya nodded eagerly, and began climbing the steps to the nursery. When she was a little way up the stairs, Yuuri turned to give Victor a small kiss on his cheek and repeated, “Really, Victor. I’m fine.”

Victor decided to give him some space, and stepped back with a small nod.

As their retreating backs disappeared towards the second floor, he caught Mila’s eye, still lit with fiery indignation, knowing that the very same could have happened to Sara. There were so many nasty incidents just waiting in the wings, and they would keep coming unless things changed.

Things had to change, if only for Anya’s sake.

He knew that Mila shared the same sentiments even before she voiced them, and they walked wordlessly into his father’s old office.

They needed to talk.

 

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When Anya was two days from turning two, Victor found himself waiting outside the boardroom, clasping his icy cold fingers together to steady his shaking hands.

The twenty-four members of the senior management were gathered in full force, waiting for him behind the solid double doors.

It was a formality, really, what they were about to do. They’d already done it twelve times in the last two years, as Victor’s hand-picked candidates speedily replaced half of the old warhorses.

And now it was his turn. He needed at least sixteen signatures of approval to take his father’s place, before the official handover ceremony next week. Everyone behind these doors will be expecting to get this done in the first few minutes of the meeting and move on.

But they may be in for a surprise, because Victor had an announcement that might complicate things.

Yuuri had been distraught when Victor told him about the plan, and he had refused to go through with it, adamant that he couldn’t let Victor risk his career again just for him. In the end, it was Mila who had convinced him, just by saying, “We’re doing this for Anya.”

Technically, there was no need for Victor to let the seniors know about a private matter like this. He could wait a little while longer, become the head of the company, and then make the announcement. But he didn’t want to start his leadership with a lie. It would lose the trust of his senior team, and do far more damage to the company in the long run.

No, it was better to find out now, and give them the chance to cast him out if they didn’t agree with him.

In a way, it felt liberating to reach this point of no return. Almost like an ultimatum that said he was sick and tired of playing these games.

Mila stood beside him, and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“It’s time, Victor,” she said firmly.

Victor took a deep breath and gave her a nervous smile, “What do you think our chances are?”

“Let’s see,” she said thoughtfully, “Twelve from the young ones. Then Yakov Feltsman, Nikolai Plisetsky, Alexei Popovich. Fifteen yes-es. And…”

“And my father,” said Victor, finishing her sentence.

“So, fifty-fifty I’d say,” she replied with a crooked grin.

Victor nodded his head grimly. If his father had been hoping to remove Yuuri from their lives, then his actions have backfired beyond recognition.

But Victor still hoped that his father could see he was asking the impossible from Victor, and would change his mind.

It all was down to Vladimir Nikiforov, and whether he truly cared about his son. And if he didn’t, then Victor didn’t want anything more to do with him.

With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and pushed open the double doors.

Almost immediately, he could feel the acute scrutiny coming from both sides of the long table, and his father’s imposing presence at the opposite end of the room. He calmly stood at the head of the table, and placed his folder of documents before him.

When Mila had taken the seat on his right, he cleared his throat and began.

“Good morning, everyone. As you know, the first item on our agenda is your formal approval of my place on the senior management.”

One of the assistants promptly approached the table to pass them the document for signing, and Victor raised his hand to stop him.

“But before we do that, I have a small announcement to make that you may wish to include in your considerations. It may have an impact on the future of our enterprise.”

He paused slightly to survey the boardroom, seeing worried looks appearing around the table, and continued.

“I believe many of you know that Ms. Mila Babicheva and I have had a...mutually beneficial agreement for many years, intended to uphold a certain image for the company, and has been an asset of some value for us. Which is why I believe it is necessary for me to inform you of certain changes that have taken place.”

Then, his steady gaze fell on his father, and he said with finality,

“Ms. Mila Babicheva and I have been divorced for the past three months. Should you approve of my place in the company, I will be attending the official handover ceremony, and the proceeding press conference, with my husband Katsuki Yuuri.”

His words were followed by stunned surprise and outraged murmurs, but he chose to ignore them and nodded tensely to the assistant, who promptly approached Yakov, seated to the right of his father, and passed him the document.

Yakov threw him a dirty look, but signed the document without hesitation, and passed it along to the next person.

With wordless tension, Victor counted the signatures he received as the document circled the table. As expected, he had the full support of the younger members, some of whom gave Victor an encouraging smile as they put down their signatures. Chris even winked at him, and Victor saw him add three small crosses after his signature.

But aside from the three who had supported him from the very beginning, the other older warhorses refused their approval, some shoving the document roughly to the next person, casting looks of disgust in his direction.

...thirteen...fourteen...fifteen.

And the document was placed before his father.

Victor felt his heart stop, as his father picked up the document, and carefully studied the list of signatures scrawled on the paper. But he made no move to pick up his pen, and the longer the pen was left untouched, the more Victor felt his expectations draining from him.

Then, all his hopes were dashed in an instant, when Vladimir replaced the document on the table, and leaned over to whisper in Yakov’s ear. Victor felt his eyelids fall shut in resignation, as he struggled with the rising disappointment within him, and forced himself to face harsh reality.

When he reopened his eyes, he saw Vladimir glancing at with with a raised eyebrow, and a small knowing smile appeared on his lips, as if he could read Victor’s thoughts and was amused by what he saw. But before Victor could react in hostility at his flippant expression, Vladimir returned his gaze to Yakov, and reached out his hand to accept a pen that Yakov was holding out to him, before promptly placing his large loopy signature on the document.

“I counted sixteen signatures,” announced his father calmly, as he passed the document to the assistant, “Mr Victor Nikiforov has the required approval.”

Then, he looked at Victor directly, as he added, “Before we proceed to the second item on the agenda, may I suggest we discuss potential damage control concerning your little announcement?”

Victor nodded wordlessly, trying to steady his feet and clear his foggy mind after the enormous roller coaster of emotions that had just trundled past his life, his surroundings seeming entirely surreal and perplexing. He shook his head slightly, and blurted out,

“Right, erm- Damage control? Oh yes, damage control...”

The meeting proceeded in surprising calm. That is, after he’d allowed the older members to vent their anger sufficiently. But he’d stood his ground, arguing that the facade had done its job, they now had a firm hold on two new markets that were no longer volatile battlefields, where every misstep would cost them the entire venture. And then firmly reminded them of his part in their successes until now.

They still put up a good fight, but thankfully they were outnumbered, and the others were more concerned about dealing with the aftermath, rather than discussing something that had already happened. It still didn’t stop even those who supported him to be as meticulous and defensive about maintaining the company’s reputation.

By the end of the meeting, he could barely wait for them to leave before collapsing from sheer exhaustion into his chair, and hiding his face in his hands.

He heard someone taking a seat beside him, and peeked through his fingers to find Vladimir looking at him with an unreadable expression. Victor quickly sat up in his chair to face his father.

“Did you think I wasn’t going to sign the document?” Vladimir asked in amusement.

Victor gave him a look of slight guilt, and replied, “Yes. I didn’t think you would want to risk the company’s reputation.”

“I suppose it’s justified,” he conceded, “Considering my past actions. But I think you’ll be able to handle the ramifications. The markets should be stable enough over the next few years to absorb the shock.”

There was a brief pause, and Victor hesitated slightly, still not sure whether he wanted to know the answer, as he ventured in a careful voice, “Why did you push for the handover to happen so soon?”

A thoughtful look appeared on Vladimir’s face, and drummed his fingers on the table, mulling over his words, and replied slowly,

“I knew that you would do something...dramatic within these few years. I just wanted to make sure you were in a solid position to take over the company when you did.” He paused to give a cynical chuckle, as he added, “And it seems like we barely squeezed through before you did. I wasn’t too sure whether Yakov would give his support. He’s had some choice words about having to stay on.”

Victor stared blankly at his father, trying to make sense of his words. “You knew…?” he repeated cautiously, “You mean, you were expecting me to do this…? But how would you know? I wasn’t even sure myself until a few months ago.”

His incredulous stares were met with a sudden look of sadness in his father’s eyes.

“I knew..." said Vladimir slowly, "Because I remembered that I couldn’t lie to you when you asked whether you will ever have a mother, like everyone else. You were only two, but I had to say she was never coming back.”

“And since we are quite alike, I knew that you couldn't possibly lie to Anya when she starts to ask who Katsuki Yuuri is. But because you also cannot tell her the truth, you will set out to change the truth. At whatever cost.”

His father laid a heavy hand on his shoulder, and continued in an earnest voice,

“I have made my mistakes, Vitya. My hands may have been tied then, but I made those decisions, and I am sorry for them. But this time, it was within my power to give you the life you want. And I want nothing but the best for you.”

Upon hearing those words, Victor felt the instant loosening of a painful knot in his chest that had bound and suffocated his heart for so many years.

The words were long overdue, words that he yearned to hear but never dared to admit he wanted to hear them. And the words were now uttered, so freely, so unexpectedly.

He reached towards his shoulder and grasped his father’s hand. Trying to express his forgiveness through the tightness of his grip because words had failed him.

His father did have an ulterior motive after all, just not quite what he’d expected.

 

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The jolly sounds of carol singing echoed from flimsy loudspeakers, filling the park with a jubilant festivity. The circle of trees surrounding them were draped haphazardly with cheerful fairy lights that twinkled among the branches against the darkening sky.

There was a crisp chill in the frosty air, mingling with the warmth of raucous laughter and childish glee coming from the large rink below, the gleaming ice criss-crossed by groups and pairs of skaters, some struggling to stay upright, others gliding smugly by on one foot.

They slowly approached the low wooden entrance to the rink, stomping awkwardly in their heavy skates. Anya was swaying happily between them, beyond excited in her new white skates, as she lifted each foot in turn to show them off.

Yuuri was clutching a large plastic penguin in one hand, and eyeing the rink with a worried look.

“I don’t think she’s ready for this, Vitya,” he repeated, for the hundredth time, “Maybe next year.”

And for the hundredth time, Victor reassured him, “Yuuri, my love, we’re here already. If we don’t let her on the ice, she’ll cry till next year.”

“But even the penguin is bigger than her,” Yuuri replied anxiously, brandishing the plastic skating aid in the air, “She can’t hold on to the handles.”

“She can hold on to wings?” suggested Victor unhelpfully, as Yuuri placed the penguin doubtfully on the ice, knowing full well that the wings could barely be seen.

“Besides,” Victor added with bright smile, “She’s so steady on her feet. She won’t need it!”

Yuuri threw him a dirty look that clearly said it was on him if Anya fell down and cried.

But they went ahead anyway, with Yuuri gently guiding her onto the ice with both hands, as she wobbled on her feet, trying to find her balance on an unfamiliar surface. While Victor stood guard behind them, ready to pounce and break her fall.

Soon, her timid steps became more confident, and she began gliding longer distances on her own, as Yuuri moved further and further back, ready to catch her when Victor released his hold and she slid towards him.

She was a marvel and they couldn’t believe how quickly she took to the ice. Before the evening was over, she was skating tentatively before them, occasionally reaching out to the barriers to steady a sudden wobble, and slowing down every so often to check that they were still behind her, before pushing off again. Victor's cheeks were starting to ache from the proud grin on his faces, and he called out encouragements for Anya to go further, despite Yuuri's worried protests, confident that she would be fine.

However, her first time on the ice couldn’t have been completely tears-free. Both of them could only look on in horrified slow-motion, their faces contorted in dismay, as a lady stopped abruptly in her tracks, causing Anya to run into her legs and falling with a bump onto the cold wet surface.

The waterworks began, and tragic wailing resounded throughout the rink. The lady turned around in horror and began apologising profusely, as she helped Anya to her feet.

Yuuri was beside them in a shot, even before Victor had recovered from the shock. The lady looked up in relief at Yuuri’s approach and said manically, “Look, look your daddy’s here. It’s all right. Don’t cry.”

But her words only caused Anya’s wails to turn into outraged reprimands between her choking sobs. “That’s _NOT_ daddy. That’s Yuu-Li!” And returned to indignant weeping, as she clung tightly to Yuuri, hiccupping between her tears.

Victor took in the small chaos before him, trying but failing to suppress the loud sniggering that was escaping from his lips, earning him a warning look from Yuuri.

He barely managed to wipe a tear from his eye before skating over to them between remnant chortles. But his amused distraction meant that he tripped on his toepick when he tried to stop, and skidded face first into the ice. As he laid in a shivering heap on ground, he heard Anya’s watery laughter somewhere above his head.

With a small groan, he flopped onto his back and looked up to see Yuuri hovering over him, shaking his head helplessly at Victor’s wretched state, before leaning over to place a soft kiss on his lips that he reciprocated eagerly. 

“Why did I marry you, Victor Nikiforov?” muttered Yuuri with wry smile, his eyes dancing with joy.

Victor pulled him forward again, replying tenderly as their lips touched, “Because you love me.”

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All comments welcome :D  
> And I'm on [tumblr](https://weberina.tumblr.com/). Come and chat!!  
> Thank you so much for reading, and for the wonderful comments, and the kudos! Wouldn't have found the motivation to keep writing without it, so thank you so much for your encouragement (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ
> 
> Oh and the side-story of Kenji and Seung Gil can now be found [here ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12950937/chapters/29603196)


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